


Instant Family

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Series: In a World of their Own: Bellarke Rom-Com AUs [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically everyone in this has a ton of kids, Clarke and Bellamy run a home flipping business, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Foster Care, Friends to Lovers, Kidfic, Living Together, Lots of cute kid moments, Parenthood, Romantic Comedy Adaptation, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, They are FOSTER parents, They're "best friends" who are absolutely "not" in love with each other, This is not a pregnancy fic, This will likely be equally a comedy and a heartfelt sap fest, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, lots of pining, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke have been best friends for almost fourteen years. They've seen each other through highs and lows, relationships, break-ups, weddings and funerals...no matter how many things around them changed, they were always there for each other. As they’ve entered their thirties, their other friends have gotten married and are starting their families. Once the official group "mom" and "dad", in the bustle of baby showers and fifth birthday parties, they’ve gotten left behind.When their biological clocks start ticking, they decide to start to family together…a little differently than most people would expect. During their journey as platonic, unmarried, foster parents, they laugh, cry, celebrate a lot of small milestones and learn a lot about themselves and each other.Maybe what they’ve both been looking for all this time, has always been right in front of them. There is more than one way to have a family after all...
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor Nathan Miller/Eric Jackson - Relationship, Minor Raven Rayes/Miles Ezikiel Shaw, minor John Murphy/Emori - Relationship, minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln - Relationship
Series: In a World of their Own: Bellarke Rom-Com AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544413
Comments: 364
Kudos: 509
Collections: Required Readings





	1. An Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the movie Instant Family, the song Rivers and Roads and a little bit of Chip and Joanna Gaines.
> 
> Thank you to [@AllySketches](https://allysketches.tumblr.com/) for this absolutely beautiful piece of art! She is so incredibly talented, I mean look at this!! I can't even begin to say how touched I am that she chose this fic to inspire a piece. She accepts commissions, so check out her profiles if you're interested! I linked them above! 

Bellamy ran his hand over the smooth granite countertop, the finish glistened under the glow of the soft overhead lights. He took a deep breath, admiring their handiwork. It never got old, the feel of a freshly done house. He had never envisioned himself enjoying something like this, something so physical but having a tangible, finished house was a kind of satisfaction he had never been able to find in academia.

This house had been a piece of work, the original floorplan was cramped and outdated, full of ornate dark rooms with fallen beams. It was by far the most difficult project they had taken on, he hadn’t wanted to do it initially, but Clarke had worn him down. She had fallen in love with the place, had said she felt something in her bones…a connection. And once Clarke put her mind to something, there was no talking her out of it.

“I have to admit, you were right,” he said as Clarke came into the kitchen with an enormous sketchbook tucked under her arm.

“Right about what?” she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Fuck, she was going to make him own up to it. He had really dug his heels in about this place being unsalvageable and now he had to eat his words.

“This place is amazing,” he sighed, rolling his eyes when she danced happily at his admittance. “It might just be our best work.”

Everyone had told them that going into business with your best friend was a feat pathed toward failure, but he had yet to see any truth in that. There hadn’t been a single day since they had started The Hearth, that he had regretted this venture. Sure, there were times when Clarke tucked a piece of hair behind her ear or the light hit her just the right way while she was sketching where he momentarily lost his grip on reality. But they spent a lot of time together and he had long since come to terms with the fact that he and Clarke were platonic life partners and nothing more.

“It’s going to be really hard to let this place go,” she murmured, leaning next to him against the counter. The house had been painstakingly put together, she had spent hours pouring over cabinet samples and counter decorations. It was perfect. In another world, this would’ve been her house. In a perfect world, this might have been _their_ house.

But this was reality and neither of those things was going to happen. A wave of sadness washed over Clarke as she looked at the enormous chalkboard that someone’s family would write messages to each other on and the long farmhouse table their kids would do their homework on. They had been flipping houses for almost a decade now, but she had never been so attached to one of them.

This had been the first project since she lost her mom. For a while, she had felt uninspired, it had taken almost a year to found something that lit her fire again. After months of mind-numbingly boring suburban farm style flips, this old colonial had been a breath of fresh air.

Bellamy had been wary of it, but he had supported her weird processing of her loss. Despite his reservations, he had put his all into this rebuild. He had really done a beautiful job. She had poured all of her grief into setting this place up. Somehow in the process, it had turned into the kind of house she had always wished she had grown up in and the kind of house she always saw herself raising her own family in. It was warm and bright, the kind of place that was meant to be filled with an army of kids. Clarke and her dog wouldn’t exactly be able to fill all six bedrooms.

The air in the kitchen had grown heavy, further punctuated by the orange-pink tinge that seeped through the farmhouse window. It felt like they were mourning the loss of this house.

“We should probably go, Octavia told everyone to be there by six,” he said finally, pushing off the counter and unclipping his toolbelt from around his waist.

“I got Emori something from both of us, do you want to just sign the card on the way there?” she agreed, following him through the kitchen and back out.

Bellamy chucked, digging under the seat for a second before turning around to hold up a gift bag. “I got something from both of us too.”

Clarke laughed with him as she took the bag, sliding into the bed of the company truck while she dug through it.

“We can just combine them. I got her stemless wine glasses, so a bottle of wine seems like a good addition,” she shook her head, tossing the card she had written into the backseat and scribbling a note of her own in the card Bellamy had bought.

Nobody would think anything of it, they had been giving their friends joint gifts for years, at this point they had come to expect it. The only time it had been brought up was Christmas their junior year of college, when they had gotten _everyone_ joint gifts. In hindsight, it might’ve been overkill for a platonic set of friends.

Back then, they had been the group parents. Everyone had called them “mom and dad”, sure it had been annoying but there had been surefire truth in it. They had always taken care of everyone else, made sure everyone stayed alive during finals and that Jasper never electrocuted himself in his labs. Most of them hadn’t had much to go home to, so it had been a way to not feel so alone.

But that was a long time ago. Ironically enough, they had somehow gone from being the group parents to become the only people without kids. These days, it seemed that everyone was mom and dad except for them. Sure, their group looked a little different, but Clarke sometimes missed the years of them all crowding around a 3 foot tall Christmas tree while eating Bellamy’s crockpot spaghetti.

Bellamy pulled into Octavia’s winding driveway, pausing the survey the cars already parked instead of climbing out.

“You should probably put your hair up, it took you like three hours to undo the braid that Claire put in it last time,” he warned, eyeing the long curls framing her shoulders.

Clarke cringed at the memory, pulling the soft pink scrunchie from her wrist and throwing her hair into a messy ponytail. Octavia’s youngest daughter had gotten a hairdressing doll for Christmas and was determined to learn how to do a Rapunzel braid. It was unlikely that the ponytail would do much to deter her efforts, but it was worth the attempt.

Bellamy balanced the gift bag in one hand and rang Octavia’s doorbell, grinning widely as the thud of feet erupted from behind the door. It swung open to reveal three screaming kids and two Great Danes that immediately pushed past them both and ran into the street.

“Shit—I mean, shoot! Gopher! Banana! Get back here,” Lincoln groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face while he ran out to chase the dogs back inside.

“We’re obviously running a little behind,” Octavia said sheepishly, hugging both Clarke and her brother before she shepherded the kids back into the house. Lincoln was fighting a losing battle with the enormous dogs, and the heckling audience probably wasn’t helping.

“That’s okay! It gives us some time to hang out with the nuggets,” Clarke giggled while both girls latched themselves onto her legs. Bellamy had their son, Justin balanced on his shoulders already.

“I’m the favorite nugget,” Claire yelled, springing up from the floor to reach for Clarke’s hand.

“Nooo! I’m the best nugget, I was here first,” Elise yelled indignantly, holding tighter to Clarke’s leg and burying her face against her knee.

“I was here first Elise, I’m the _king_ nugget,” Justin said smugly, crossing his arms and resting them on top of Bellamy’s head.

“Well, the king nugget looks pretty delicious to me!” Clarke teased, wiggling her fingers and nipping at the air with her teeth. “In fact, you all look pretty delicious to me!”

The kids all squealed with delight as Clarke growled and started chasing them. Justin slid down to Bellamy’s back and rode him like a horse through the house.

They roughhoused for a while, rolling around on the floor in a giant pile with Bellamy and Clarke taking turns on who was the nugget eating monster. Just as the kids were starting to tire, Octavia popped into the doorway and beckoned for them to follow.

“Alright nuggets, the monsters need a break to reset their old backs,” Bellamy said, wiggling out of their grips and turning around to growl one last time before following his sister.

“What’s with the bad news face?” he asked, sitting down heavily next to Clarke on the couch.

“Murphy and Emori’s sitter bailed,” Octavia sighed, rubbing her thumb against her temple.

“One of the triplets is a biter, so I’m not exactly surprised,” Clarke said, rolling her head back onto the couch.

Bellamy chanced a look at her out of the corner of his eye, they both knew what this meant. He and Clarke both loved their friends’ kids, most of the time they were really fun. But anytime it came time to hang out with only adults, the entire plan seemed to hinge on babysitter availability and preschool ear infection epidemics. The last time they had all been able to hang out, there had been a birthday party princess dressed like Elsa who had blatantly hit on Miles and led to a scene involving Raven and a lot of yelling.

“I asked ours whether she would be willing to watch them all but six kids that are super close in age is kind of a lot,” Octavia said carefully, “I just wanted to brace you guys in case this doesn’t work out.”

They all sat in awkward silence for a moment, just as Lincoln finally returned with both the dogs. Following closely behind him, were Miller and Eric who were glued to their phone screens.

"We got an app that lets us watch Willow on the baby monitor,” Miller explained, taking one last look at his phone before slipping it back into his pocket and nudging his husband to do the same.

“The first time is always the hardest,” Lincoln said, delving into a story about how he and Octavia had cut their first date after Justin was born short to come home and watch him sleep.

Bellamy jerked his thumb back toward where the kids were playing and Clarke nodded, following him around the corner and back to the basement. It didn’t really seem like any of the adults even noticed them leaving.

“I’m Elsa!” Claire screamed, shoving Elise to the floor to grab the dress. Elise’s lip quivered; the initial signs of a meltdown etched into her delicate features.

Clarke internally groaned, looking between the two girls for a beat before pulling the scrunchie out of her hair and redirecting their attention to their hair braiding lessons. Claire squealed, dropping the dress immediately so that she could tug at Clarke’s long strands.

Seemingly satisfied, Elise turned to pick up the dress, shrugging it on as she ran toward Bellamy.

“Now Justin can be Olaf and Uncle Bell can be Kristoff,” she explained slowly, point to each of them.

“Olaf is stupid! I want to be Maui!” Justin screamed indignantly, stomping his foot against the carpet and running to retrieve a giant hooked staff.

“Maui isn’t in Frozen you poopy wipe!”

“You’re a poopy wipe! I hate playing Frozen.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, this was quickly devolving into chaos and he needed to redirect them somehow. In moments like this, he wondered how Octavia handled having three kids under the age of 5 every day.

“I just learned how to sing ‘You’re Welcome’, you guys wanna see?!” he asked, setting his pride aside for the sake of distraction.

Both kids nodded and Justin held out a large curly black wig for him to don. Chancing a glance at Clarke, whose hair had been turned into a messy knot, he put on the wig and started singing the opening bars to the song.

At the sound of Bellamy singing, Clarke redirected Claire so that she could watch. Thankfully, her hair wasn’t too knotted, and the ponytail came out relatively easily while Claire was distracted.

Bellamy was actually doing a pretty good job, he threw some dancing and physical comedy into his routine that had the kids rolling around on the carpet with giggles. Just as he was wrapping up the musical number, three blurs of curly brown hair came barreling down the stairs.

The kids immediately lost interest in Bellamy, instead breaking off to greet their friends and show off all their new toys from Christmas.

“How come I didn’t know you could sing,” Clarke giggled, reaching out to pull the enormous wig off Bellamy’s head.

“You never asked,” he shrugged, glancing at the kids one last time before taking her hand and leading her back up the stairs.

They found all their friends huddled around Miller’s phone, staring at the live feed of Willow’s nursery.

***

Bellamy examined himself in the rearview mirror while he waited for Clarke to finish saying her goodbyes. He was pretty sure that he had grown a few grey hairs during that dinner. At one point, the dinner table conversation had shifted to what color and consistency baby poop should be. Sometimes it felt like the magnitude to which his friends had changed was a giant cosmic joke.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but do you feel like all of our friends’ personalities have morphed into breast pumps and toddler swim lessons? Maya just told me that if a breastfeeding woman hears a baby cry, she can spontaneously leak milk. I get it, the female body is amazing, I have so much respect for that but also that is information I never needed to hear,” Clarke sighed, leaning back against the seat of the car.

“Miller spent almost 20 minutes describing to me how he got sympathy morning sickness when their surrogate was pregnant with Willow. So, I would have to agree,” he nodded, rubbing his palms against his jeans.

“Is it terrible for me to say that I love their kids but I kind of hate what being parents have done to them?”

“I wonder if it happens to everyone. Like if you get handed a baby and it’s suddenly all you can talk about.”

“I feel like we wouldn’t be like that,” Clarke said quickly, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she had the chance to really process what she said or what she was implying. There was a beat of awkward silence before Bellamy spoke.

“We definitely wouldn’t. I want to shake them sometimes, there’s such a thing called balance,” he agreed, shifting the gear and peeling out of the parking lot to avoid Clarke’s gaze. Whether or not he had fantasized about having kids with Clarke was a discussion for another time.

Logically, he knew that he should take Clarke home, but something about what she had just said and their terrible night out made him want to go in the opposite direction. Clarke didn’t protest when he turned the truck onto the highway. Instead, she fiddled with his radio, finding a soft rock station she liked as she slumped against the leather interior.

For Bellamy, this was the best part of their friendship. They always managed to come to a silent agreement. Clarke never pushed anything, she just understood.

They drove in comfortable silence, the hum of the radio floating through the air and mixing with the sharp January air. The same thickness sat between them from earlier. As much as Bellamy found his friends’ behavior irritating, it always left him feeling a little empty. He had always pictured himself as the kind of person who would have a big family. After spending most of his teenage years raising Octavia, he had wanted to wait before settling down but sometimes it felt like he had waited too long and missed his window.

Even when the baby poop conversations got to be grating, he loved his nieces and nephews, adopted and biological.

The radio started to crackle as he turned into the gravel driveway of their project. The house was just outside of Arkadia and seemingly beyond the range of the local radio station. The country provided a kind of peace that was never present in the city. The stars peppered the sky in a milky patter and the chatter of wildlife clicked in the distance. After growing up in the middle of downtown, the serene quiet of this beautiful farmhouse settled deep in Bellamy’s soul.

Bellamy flipped off the engine and wordlessly left the truck, beckoning for Clarke to follow. Clarke stayed in the car for a minute longer, watching his broad form retreat into the darkness. She was glad that he seemed to be feeling the same melancholy tinge that she was. Lately, it felt like she was being left behind. Other than their business, she hadn’t left any trace on the world.

After her mom had died, Clarke had spent a lot of time thinking about all the things that her parents would never see. But the considerations of weddings and grandchildren pushed forward the fear that she would never have those things anyway. Clarke had spent most of her twenties focusing on her career and herself, she had always thought marriage and children would come eventually. But as time went on, it seemed like that wasn’t the case.

A deep-seated part of her had always hoped that she and Bellamy could just be together the way that she wanted back in college. But it never seemed to be the right time. They had settled so deeply into the idea of platonic life partners but there was no going back now. The fantasies of being able to come home to her best friend had long passed.

The burn of tears sung at the backs of her eyes and Clarke finally forced herself to leave the car. She breathed in the clean sharpness of the cool air as she ambled toward the door. This might be the last time that she got to see this house without potential buyers, she wanted to remember every detail.

She found Bellamy digging through the cabinets. “The guys always hide liquor and snacks up here while we do construction,” he called over his shoulder, continuing his search through the shelves. She hopped up onto the counter, watching the flex of his shoulders as he moved to the next one.

With a triumphant smirk, he turned holding a bottle of raspberry vodka and two bags of Lays.

“I was definitely bracing myself to drink warm beer, raspberry Smirnoff is a welcome surprise,” she laughed, holding her arms out to catch one of the family-sized bags.

“C’mon, let's go out back,” Bellamy smiled, twisting off the cap of the bottle and taking a quick pull.

He followed behind as Clarke pulled the heavy French doors leading to the backyard. This house really was perfect, it had everything a family could possibly want. He wasn’t sure where Miller had found time to install a swing set and a wooden igloo, but the backyard was a kid’s dream.

Clarke flopped into the tire swing, scraping her feet against the woodchips spread across the ground. Bellamy sat beside her in the traditional swing, pushing the bottle into her hands before he started swinging lightly back and forth. She took the bottle gratefully, taking a long sip. The liquor burned at the back of her throat and the flavor reminded her of sticky basement floors and dirty converse, but it felt good. After a few sips, a warm buzz tickled under her skin as the stress of the night ebbed away.

“Tonight, was annoying as hell but I don’t know I just feel—” Bellamy said finally, breaking their long silence.

“Left behind? Empty?” Clarke supplied, turning the swing so she could meet his gaze. “Because same.”

“Remember when we used to be ‘mom and dad’ to everyone? I miss that. I want to feel needed like that again.”

“I miss it too. I always thought I would be a mom one day, it kind of sucks that it didn’t happen.”

“You still have time. I’m almost forty, it’s getting to the point where if I had kids, people would think I was their grandpa.”

“I would like to know whose grandpa has a six-pack, that’s a little hyperbolic even for you.”

“So is thinking that you’re an old maid at thirty-two. You can still have kids.”

“The more I hear about pregnancy the less I ever want to do it. Maybe I’d adopt or something one day.”

“It’s like a time jump. Makes it seem like you had them when everyone else did,” Bellamy chuckled, tipping back the bottle to take another shot.

Clarke paused, mulling over what Bellamy had just said. She had never seriously considered adopting or fostering kids, but the idea of it appealed to her a lot more than the thought of biological kids ever had. There had been a period in her teenage years where her dad was gone and she was so angry at her mom, they weren’t even speaking. She was well versed in feeling alone and she knew Bellamy was too.

“It was something I had thought about a lot in my twenties. That could have so easily been me and Octavia if our mom had died when I was any younger,” Bellamy admitted. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, it felt like more than just sharing life tidbits.

“To be honest it never really occurred to me, I feel like it isn’t talked about enough. But now, it feels like something I need to do. The idea that there are kids out there who feel alone and don’t have adults to rely on is just—”

“Exactly the kind of thing that people like us are drawn to,” Bellamy supplied, tipping his head back to look at the sky. It was true. It was what made them such a good team, they always wanted to save everyone and everything, even if it was to their own detriment.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the buzz of the alcohol, the weight of the night or the fact that Clarke’s hair had fallen out of her ponytail to frame her face, but he suddenly couldn’t shake the revelation he had just come upon.

“This might be crazy, but we’ve never shied away from crazy,” he began, pausing to make sure she was listening to him.

“If anything, we tend to run headfirst into crazy.”

“Exactly. We have this amazing house; a generous amount of savings and I don’t know about you, but I haven’t tried to date in like two years. If we want kids, we could just foster them and raise them together. As best friends,” he said carefully, emboldened by the alcohol. Sure, this wasn’t the way he had wanted to raise kids, especially with Clarke, but they were a good team and they could make a great life for some kids who really needed it. Hopefully, she didn’t think he was crazy, there was a good chance this drunk ramble could unravel his oldest and most stable friendship.

Clarke mulled over Bellamy’s statement; she wasn’t exactly surprised, even though she probably should have been. She instinctively wanted to say yes, desperately wanted to agree to live in her dream home and raising kids with her favorite person. But she knew this would hurt, as much as she never liked to admit it to herself, this wasn’t the way she had wanted to do this and agreeing would probably eliminate her chances of ever having a family normally.

All her trepidation ebbed away as she turned in the swing to face Bellamy, the yellow light of the moon illuminated his face, accentuating each angular curve. He looked so eager, open, vulnerable, it pulled at the corners of her heart. Here she was, sitting in front of a man who wanted to have a family with her. They loved each other, even if it wasn’t in the way that parents usually do. There was so much they could offer to those kids, so much potential happiness for them all.

She would be stupid to say no.

“It’s every kid’s dream to have their parents be best friends, right?” she said quietly, watching as the understanding of what she said crossed Bellamy’s face.

He lunged up from the swing, pulling her into a hug so tight that it lifted her off the ground. They spun together, holding on to each other tightly, both buzzing with excitement at the potential of what they had decided.

Growing dizzy, Bellamy gently collapsed them both onto the grass. Their arms were still tangled together as they finally stopped moving, both of them rolling onto their backs with their shoulders pressed firmly together.

Bellamy looked up at the stars, his vision was still spinning a little from all the movement and the faint buzz of the liquor, but he could help the wide grin on his face.

“It’s us against the world, Blake,” Clarke said, holding up her pinky and wiggling it at him.

“It always has been,” he agreed, linking his pinky with hers as they both pushed up to kiss the inside of their own fists. They had been sealing agreements like this since the day they met, it only seemed fitting for the most important decision of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y’all!! I couldn’t stay away for too long, I watched this movie last week and I have not been able to get this idea out of my head!! 
> 
> I hope you all like it, you continue to be such a wonderful community of people who inspire me, encourage me and help me grow every chapter as a writer.


	2. [Platonic] Soulmates

* * *

“Oh my God,” Octavia yelled, picking up a fluffy purple throw pillow and using it to beat Bellamy on the side of the head. He yelped in surprise, lunging to the other side of the couch to escape the attack. She followed him, hitting him even harder.

“What the hell?!?” he called, using his arms to cover his head while the pillow continued to smack against him.

“I always kind of hoped you and Clarke would get over yourselves and figure it out but you’ve officially taken this whole platonic life partners thing too far. You’re raising children together?! And you’re not even doing it the fun way!”

“Dear God, stop hitting me!” Bellamy snapped, finally getting a good enough grip on the pillow to pull it from his sister’s grasp. Out of everyone’s reactions, he had been most concerned about telling Octavia. Partly because she was so opinionated and partly because he had been aggressively against her relationship with Lincoln and was probably due for some retribution.

“I am just so confused by this. Why?!” Octavia resigned, sinking back into the couch to face him. At this moment, she looked twelve years old again and Bellamy felt like he was trying to explain geometry to her. What this situation and geometry had in common was that he didn’t understand the premise well enough to explain either of them well, but he couldn’t let his sister know that.

“I’m not getting any younger and I want a family. Seeing all you guys and how happy you are—it feels like something is missing. Clarke feels the same. She’s my best friend O, there’s no other person in my life I would rather do this with.”

Octavia softened at his words, the hard crease between her brows disappearing. She had seen whatever it was between Bellamy and Clarke from the beginning. The platonic life partners thing frustrated her to no end because it was beyond clear there was more to it. But it was past the point where she could meddle. Unfortunately, in all the ways Clarke and Bellamy’s similarities were strengths, their joint stubbornness was unparalleled.

“But why not just date like normal people? This is just so messy. I’ll never understand why you guys don’t just admit—”

“This is the way we want to do it,” he interrupted, stopping the train before it started. Octavia had always claimed that Clarke had feelings for him, but Bellamy had never seen anything that indicated she was right. They spent so much time together, if she felt the way he did about her, he would have been able to tell by now. “It’s a good thing O, these are kids like we were. Kids who don’t have anyone else.”

“These kids are not like we were Bell. We were never in the system; they’ve lived a life that we can’t even imagine. I’m worried you’re romanticizing this.”

“Dammit, can’t you just be happy for me?!”

“I want you to be happy more than anything. I just worry about you,” Octavia said, reaching out to smooth down his curls. “If this is what you want then I’ll support that but please just be careful.”

Bellamy sighed, sliding down the side of the couch until his head was pillowed on his sister’s knee. He knew she was just looking out for him, and all her meddling about Clarke had always come from a good place. But Octavia just didn’t get it. She didn’t remember a lot of the parts from her childhood that were dirty or scary or sad. He had glossed over a lot of it for her, he had wanted her to think the world was kind. It had worked to an extent, maybe a little to her detriment. Things had always seemed to come easily to her; she didn’t understand that some things were just complicated. She believed in serendipity and fate, things that he had always been a little too jaded and analytical for.

“I hate to interrupt this cute sibling moment, but Claire wants to wear ‘a leaf’ to brunch and I can’t figure out what she’s talking about. When I asked her to explain, she sat inside the laundry hamper, cried and said she won’t come out until I find the leaf,” Lincoln said sheepishly, keeping his torso hidden behind a pillar to cover his SpongeBob SquarePants PJ bottoms.

“This is what you have to look forward to,” Octavia chuckled, giving his hair one last ruffle before standing up to deal with the crisis.

“For what its worth, I think you guys are doing a really great thing,” Lincoln said, moving from behind the pillar to sit beside Bellamy.

Bellamy and Lincoln had a weird but friendly relationship, they had both entered college in their late twenties and been fast friends when they’d discovered neither of them cared about frat parties and lukewarm beer. Lincoln and Octavia’s relationship had put a strain on their friendship for a while, but with time, it had reverted to the closeness they had before. He often had the wisdom that Octavia tended to lack.

“Really?! You’re the first person we’ve told who’s said that. Everyone pretty much agrees that we’re crazy.”

“It’s unconventional as hell, but I get it. Do I think you and Clarke should just be together? Yes. But I think you’re going to be really good parents regardless.”

The sentiment of it was touching, Lincoln wasn’t usually the type of guy to be vulnerable, so moments like this with him were few and far between. Bellamy could tell he was a little uncomfortable with the whole thing, but he appreciated the sentiment more so because of it.

“Thanks, man, that means a lot,” he assured, reaching out to pat his friend’s knee. “I can’t take you seriously in those pants though.”

Lincoln chuckled, “Get used to these, you’ll probably have a pair of your own soon enough.”

***

Clarke played with the corner of the socket protector; Raven had given her a few sets to help them get the house ready for kids. It was a sweet gesture, but it had spurred a burst of panic at how big of an undertaking this actually was.

She had spent most of the day childproofing the house and sketching ideas for the kids’ rooms. They were going to wait until they actually knew who the kids were before doing anything definitive, but the thought of tiny beds and little socks made Clarke’s chest ache. This was going to be a lot, but she was excited. The closer they came this actually happening, the more she realized how much she wanted it.

It had been hard at times, especially because she didn’t have any family left to rely on. This was the kind of thing she normally would have shared with her mom, even if she wouldn’t have really understood it. Part of her had wanted to call her childhood best friend Wells just so she had someone who felt like family to share this with but had decided against it. He probably wouldn’t understand. She knew the ache would come back or even get worse as they went through this so she should probably get used to it.

Bellamy’s fluffy orange cat rubbed against her leg as she wandered through the upstairs, peeking into each of the rooms. The neat square rooms reminded her of her own high ceilinged childhood bedroom. It had been one of her favorite places in the world. Her dad had built her a canopy bed with soft pink tulle and had painstakingly painted dragons and castles on the walls. She had loved it; it was like her own little escape, a place that was entirely her own. Maybe she would do the same for their daughter one day if she got the chance.

With a tinge of sadness, she continued to wander through the house before finally settling under a small pool of sunlight in the master bedroom.

“Do you think we should get twin beds like Ricky and Lucy?” Bellamy chuckled, sliding down beside her to sit on the floor. Her spot of sun had long since faded into an orange glow and the room was quickly growing dark and a bit cold.

“Or Bert and Ernie? Get some matching PJs too,” she laughed, bumping her knee against his. The cat wandered lazily from her lap, across her legs and settled in between them.

“I think our friends would officially disown us. Octavia beat me with a pillow when I told her about everything.”

“I’m surprised you expected any other kind of reaction from her.”

“Fair and accurate, I’m going to have a bruise from it tomorrow though.”

“They’ll all come around once we actually do this,” she assured, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing gently.

“I just hope we’re doing the right thing,” he sighed, thudding his head back against the wall. Logically he knew that nobody ever felt ready to have kids, but they were really pushing the envelope with this. Since they had decided, his stomach had been a knot of excitement and anxiety.

Wordlessly, Clarke turned her sketchbook toward him. The page was full of designs for kids’ rooms: bunk beds, treehouse themes, a princess bed, and a racecar lamp. The flush of anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach only moments before, melted into warmth. Seeing it laid out like this, made it feel real. He wanted this and Clarke was the perfect person to do it with.

“We’re doing the right thing,” he said finally, handing the sketchbook back to her.

Clarke nodded, tipping her head so that it rested against his shoulder. The sting of his cologne was warm and familiar, and she buried her face into the soft knit of his sweater, enjoying the soft rub against her cheek. “I think we are too.”

“I also think you should take the master,” he said, pressing his cheek into the crown of her hair.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that. I don’t want it either, it doesn’t feel fair. I was thinking we could make it into a home office since we’ll probably need to be home more often.”

“Home is where The Hearth is,” he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“I’m canceling you,” Clarke said, shoving him lightly so that he fell against the wood floor with an overdramatic flail of the arms.

“The dad jokes are only going to get worse from here,” he teased, standing up and holding a hand out to help her up.

***

Clarke was nervous, like palms sweaty, skin itchy, fingers tingly nervous. Today was the day they were going to meet with the foster office. As much as she knew they were probably going to be okay, she couldn’t shake the thick churn of anxiety at the bottom of her stomach. She had tried on close to thirty outfits in an attempt to figure out what vibe she wanted to give off. Business attire seemed too stuffy and reminded her of her mom a little too much, but jeans and a sweater had seemed too casual.

This needed to go well, they had gotten too invested to go back now. With a groan, she dug through her discarded pile of clothes and the half-packed boxes strewn around her room. Nothing seemed right and she suddenly wished she had the foresight to go shopping for this. The confidence of a new outfit was exactly what she needed right now.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding up a white overall dress for her dog Ryder to examine. Ryder whined, biting down on his squeaky toy from where he lay on her bed.

“I think you’re right,” she agreed, scratching him behind the ears while she dug through the pile for a matching sweater and her tights. It was a good thing that their home visit was going to happen in their new place because objectively her apartment was a disaster. By the time she had deemed herself approachable but still adult, her phone was buzzing to indicate Bellamy’s arrival.

She gave Ryder a gentle kiss on the head and one last scratch as she grabbed her tote bag and ran to meet Bellamy.

To her relief, he had chosen a similar vibe for his appearance with a worn linen shirt and dark jeans. His hair was recently trimmed and the ends curled softly around the nape of his neck, still damp from his shower. Admittedly, he looked incredibly handsome. It was rare for Clarke to see him in anything other than dirty jeans and worn t-shirts. She never really lost sight of the fact that he was gorgeous, but it was much harder to ignore when he looked like this.

“The glasses were a nice touch,” she smiled, pulling out a stack of papers from her bag. They had wanted to cover their bases, so she had filled out all the paperwork she could find online beforehand. It had been taxing and required multiple calls to Ark Memorial Hospital to obtain copies of their birth certificates but hopefully, the social worker would be pleased.

“What if they don’t like that we don’t go to church? Or that we eat McDonald’s?” he mumbled to himself, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“I think we should worry more about what they’re going to think of our relationship status.”

“I looked it up online and they seem pretty accepting, but I think we should be vague. If they assume we’re dating, we should probably just let them,” he shrugged steeling his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, it would likely be less complicated to explain. It doesn’t really matter anyway,” she shrugged, still focused on ensuring all the papers were signed and in the right order. Bellamy was right, most people just assumed they were dating anyway. Surely it wasn’t very common for friends to try and raise children together. It probably wouldn’t come up.

They rode in comfortable silence, the jingle of the keys in the ignition filling the air. It was a warm day, and Bellamy had rolled down the windows to let the soft breeze drift through. The cool air against her face helped quell her nerves, unraveling the knot in her stomach. They were going to do this, and it was going to be okay.

“We’ve got this,” Bellamy said, echoing her thoughts aloud—It seemed like it was more to convince himself than to convince Clarke, as he pulled into the parking lot of the foster agency.

The building was bare and clinical, for some reason Clarke had expected it to be cuter and full of school-type decorations. The formality of it made her suddenly doubt her choice to wear overalls but she steeled through her anxiety and reached down to hold Bellamy’s hand.

Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s hand, taking a deep breath through his nose as they walked through the grey halls. He needed to center himself before they went in there, if he freaked out it would bleed into Clarke’s demeanor and they would probably look crazy.

A brown-haired woman in a worn cardigan greeted them at the end of the hallway and introduced herself as their caseworker Anya.

After they had traded pleasantries, Clarke cut to the chase and placed the enormous stack of paper on the table with their documents in a folder at the top of the stack.

“You’re uh—very thorough,” Anya stammered, flipping through the stack with her eyebrows raised.

Bellamy stifled a laugh as Clarke nodded, unraveling his hand from hers so he could rest his arm around her shoulders.

Anya interviewed them casually on why they wanted to be foster parents and asked them general questions about their lives. It was much less interrogative than Bellamy had been expecting, she didn’t even inquire into the nature of their relationship.

“Obviously, you know that you’re excellent candidates who seem to have good motives behind why you’re doing this. I see a lot of people like you, wide-eyed, catalog worthy types of people. It’s my job to warn you that this is a difficult process. For a child to be removed from their home, their conditions have to be pretty bleak or their parents have died, either way, they’ve seen—for lack of a better word—some shit.”

They traded a look; this had been more along the lines of what they had been expected and had prepared for. “We know that and we both come from…complicated family situations, so I think we both want to help ease that for people who may be similar or even worse off,” Bellamy said, gently squeezing Clarke’s shoulder as he spoke.

“Even if this is difficult, we aren’t the kind of people who back down from tough situations,” Clarke agreed, placing her hand on Bellamy’s knee.

Anya smiled at them both and nodded her head as she looked down to jot more notes in her clipboard. “I’m going, to be honest. We were impressed with you two from the start and meeting you two confirms my thoughts on the matter. The system is overloaded with kids and finding good people to alleviate that can be difficult. As long as you pass the home visit, meet our other requirements and this paperwork is in order, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to successfully foster children.”

Both of them sagged in relief, grinning widely while Anya jotted notes down on her clipboard and nodded appreciatively at their paperwork. Bellamy pulled Clarke more tightly against his side and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head. So much of the stress he had been carrying from earlier in the day faded away.

“The only thing you two should know is that as an unmarried couple, you do not qualify to jointly adopt the children you foster. You may elect to individually adopt children who may qualify or house short term children who are not eligible for adoption if marriage is not within your plans.”

“We’re interested in a more long-term or permanent situation,” Bellamy added quickly, looking at Clarke who nodded in agreement. They had decided early on that they wanted to help give kids a permanent home.

“I’ll put that in your file,” she smiled, pencil quietly scraping against her notepad. “You can schedule your home visit on the way out. It was a pleasure meeting you two.”

They barely registered what the receptionist was saying as they scheduled their visit and made their way back to the car. Clarke felt like she was about to explode from excitement, the meeting couldn’t have gone better. It was happening, she had liked them, they were going to get to be parents.

The second they reached the parking lot, Bellamy picked her up and swung her in a circle, hugging her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. His breath was shaky, and he was holding her just a little too tightly, but he couldn’t help it—Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy. Standing here, with his arms around Clarke, it just felt right. If he was more like Octavia, he would’ve said that this was where the universe wanted him to be right now but more logically, he just felt grateful. Grateful for the amazing woman in his arms and the future they were embarking on together.

***

Bellamy arranged and rearranged the books on the coffee table, sure, Clarke had set them up when they had initially designed the house but something about them just didn’t look right. On his third attempt to fix the arrangement, the faint smell of smoke wafted through from the kitchen. A blip of panic shot through his spine as he dropped the copy of Jane Eyre he was holding and sprinted to follow the smell.

“I burned the cookies…” Clarke murmured, holding up a tray of charred disks. Her hair was sticking up from the top and her eyes were just a little too wide as she looked between him and the unsalvageable cookies. “I thought it would make the house seem more welcoming.”

“Hey,” he said gently, taking the tray from her and unceremoniously dumping them in the trash. “We don’t need cookies. They’re going to see that we’re right for this and that we made an incredible home for our kids to live in.”

Clarke wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly, steeling all her focus into the feel of his worn flannel against her cheek and the warmth of his arms around her. This had always worked, even in her worst moments, Bellamy always managed to ground her.

“I know that this wasn’t even something I wanted until a month ago, but now I want it so desperately and I’m just so worried that someone is going to take it away,” she whispered against his chest, voice muffled by his shirt.

“I want this too. So badly,” he agreed softly, resting his chin on the top of her head. “We’ve just gotta believe that this is going to work. I get what you mean though, I rearranged the coffee table books like five times.”

“You know there’s a specific method to the way I lay those out.”

“They look pretty bad now, I’m not even going to lie about it.”

“Well good thing you have me to fix them.”

“What would I do without you princess?”

“It’s been so long since you’ve called me that,” she smiled, tilting her chin to rest against his chest.

“My secret weapon. It always manages to get a smile out of you,” he grinned back, kissing her forehead softly before letting go to dig under the counter to find some air freshener. It probably wasn’t a good look for them to have a house that reeked of burned baked goods.

Smoke smell aside, the house had really come together. It didn’t look like a showroom anymore, with all the touches that Clarke had added, it was starting to seem like a home. They hadn’t moved their things in yet, but the kids’ bedrooms were something out of an adventure catalog. Together they had designed tree-house style bunkbeds, window seats and a playroom that looked like a submarine. It was honestly some of their best work.

Clarke was drawing a calligraphy grocery list on the giant chalkboard on the wall when the doorbell rang.

They traded nervous smiles while they moved from the kitchen to the front door, swinging it open to reveal Anya, a woman they had never met and a young teenager.

“Your house is absolutely beautiful; I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s just so quaint,” Anya marveled, stepping past them into the foyer without invitation.

“We designed it ourselves,” Bellamy chuckled, gesturing for the other two women to come in as well.

“It’s our pride and joy,” Clarke continued, smiling softly at the stranger and the girl.

Anya strode through the entrance, examining the dining room and sitting area with her clipboard in hand. “I’m just going to show myself around, I’ve found that it’s easier for me to evaluate without company. But this is Charmaine Diyoza and her daughter Hope, they’re one of our successful foster matches and they’ve graciously volunteered to speak with you while I do my observation.”

They all traded pleasantries, chatting formally while Anya continued to peek around, moving bookends and ducking under couches. Finally, the stiffness was too much to bear and Clarke shifted them away from Anya’s inspection and into the kitchen.

“Would you like some iced tea?” she asked, retrieving a giant pitcher from the fridge while Bellamy led them toward the long dining room table.

“You guys must be rich!” Hope admired, staring appreciatively around the kitchen. Her mother nudged her, clearing her throat loudly to cover up for her kid.

Bellamy and Clarke both snorted out a laugh, the comment seemed to cut the tension in the air quickly and helped them transition into getting to know each other beyond pleasantries. Hope and Charmaine shared their stories about their lives and the foster system. They spoke candidly about the difficulties of transition and family dissonance.

“I was forty, single and kind of lost, finding Hope was a gift that gave me purpose and a person to share my life with,” Charmaine finished, covering her daughter’s hand with her own.

“And I had never had someone love me so unconditionally. My biological parents had always made me feel like love was conditional on whether I did what they told me to and that if I didn’t, love was supposed to hurt. My mom helped me understand that I was worthy of love regardless,” Hope agreed, smiling sincerely at her mom.

“I hope you two can find the kind of relationship with your future children that we have been able to,” Charmaine said, holding out her other hand for Clarke to hold.

It was touching, and Bellamy brushed a hand under his eye to ensure that no tears fell. He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, but the story had really hit him hard. It was the first time that he really understood the magnitude of what they were taking on. Under the table, Clarke’s other hand brushed his knee, squeezing gently.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Anya said, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. “Obviously you two passed, this home is stunning and those bedrooms—I want to live in that treehouse bed. Your childproofing is excellent as well, you just need to ensure that all alcohol is locked in a cabinet. I really appreciate how thorough you are, you clearly looked up the guidelines and have followed them well. Keep it up, it will serve you well as parents.”

Clarke and Bellamy nodded, but honestly, nothing really registered after she had told them they passed. The visit wrapped up quickly from there. Hope hugged them both and Anya left a folder on the counter before they swiftly excused themselves.

“Should we order some food and look at that?” Bellamy asked, eyeing the thick blue folder that lay on the counter.

“Thai or pizza?” Clarke nodded, pulling out her phone to place the order.

The folder lay untouched as they ate their food and watched a crime documentary on Netflix. The visit, while short, had been taxing and they both needed a mental break from all the logistics. It was hard to believe how many steps and hoops were involved in this process. There was a moment where Clarke wondered whether they should have just taken the simpler route of doing it the old fashioned way and had sex.

The thought of it momentarily tilted her off-kilter as she considered a universe where she and Bellamy had a biological baby together. There was no way they could have pulled the platonic thing in that case. Maybe it would’ve been easier in the long run. Clarke had long ago repressed her romantic feelings toward her best friend, but recently she found herself slipping up. It was getting easier and easier to initiate casual touches, especially when he kept wearing worn flannels and cozy sweaters.

Earlier, when he had called her princess, it had sent a tingle up her spine. She had used to secretly love it when he had called her that in college, even if she had pretended to hate it. It had always felt like a special thing between him and her, which made her feel like she was his in a way that nobody else was. Even when he had had Echo and Roma and Gina, none of them was princess, that was a title that was just for her.

Logically, she knew that now more than ever, the nature of their relationship could not change. It might be that this situation would prevent her from ever being able to act on her feelings. They needed to provide stability for their kids, it was already going to be confusing enough to explain to them why their parents don’t sleep in the same room. There didn’t need to be the added element of a potential break up. The realization made her heart ache, but the thought of giving this up made the ache worse.

She was caught between a rock and a hard place, but then again, she always kind of had been. Her friendship with Bellamy was too precious, too rare. Even when they were less intertwined, the thought of him not feeling the same way or of them breaking up felt catastrophic. Clarke had long ago accepted that sometimes soulmates were platonic and sometimes it was better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to represent the foster system accurately and trying to base everything in some type of truth. If you see any glaring discrepancies please let me know! I can't be 100% true to fact but I don't want to purposefully misrepresent anything.


	3. Romanticism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Better Together" cover by: US the Duo

Clarke looked across the center console of the car at Bellamy. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles where white. She had never seen him so nervous before, not even when they were waiting for Octavia to come home from her first date with Lincoln. She kept waiting for the anxiety to hit her too, but it never came. She was feeling an almost eerie sense of calm, it was like her brain was refusing to compute that they were on their way to meet their potential kid.

The whole thing was very weird, Anya had told them there was a “Foster Fair” being held in a local community center and that they had been cleared to attend. It seemed strange, like shopping for kids, but Clarke wasn’t about to argue with the way things were done. She just wasn’t sure what to expect. Her brain had conjured up pictures of kids dressed in church clothes awkwardly sitting in chairs with folders in hand, waiting to be interviewed like tiny corporate job candidates.

“What if they hate us?” Bellamy finally said, cutting through the silence.

“Then that probably means they’re the ones for us. I told my parents I hated them more times than I’d like to admit,” Clarke soothed, rubbing a hand over his thigh. She knew that was probably the wrong thing to say, but there wasn’t much else she could do. They had traded assurances so many times, it was starting to lose its meaning.

Thankfully, he cracked a smile, loosening his grip on the steering wheel just enough that Clarke felt a wave of relief.

The rest of the ride passed quickly, and they walked hand in hand into the large, brick community center. The fair was nothing like Clarke had expected, there was music, games, colorful balloons and children running around everywhere. The sight of it all sent a rush of excitement down her spine, this looked fun, they could handle this.

“I’m so glad you two could make it,” Anya said, coming up behind them to place a hand on Clarke’s shoulder.

“We’re really excited,” Bellamy grinned, looking around the room. He squeezed Clarke’s hand, his heart was racing, he couldn’t believe that their future kid could be somewhere in this room. His nerves from earlier quickly dissipated into excitement as he took in the groups of kids playing and running around.

“I am too,” Anya smiled warmly. “The younger children are toward the back, I know you marked that as a preference on your forms. There are a few groups of siblings and bonded children so I can always point them out to you if you ask. Just be yourselves, most people can tell pretty quickly whether it’s a connection.”

She gave Clarke’s shoulder one last squeeze before giving them a thumbs up and racing off to greet another set of parents.

They both stood awkwardly, evaluating the room until Bellamy finally tugged at Clarke’s hand leading her toward the crowd. The kids were really friendly, a few of them approached them and started to play but it usually fizzled out into arguing and fighting, leaving them both standing there to watch. Neither of them seemed to make any sort of deep connections but Clarke had fun playing games of patty cake with some little girls and Bellamy impressed a group of young boys by doing a layup.

After he shot his basket, he noticed a messy-haired little boy lingering on the side of the court staring at him wide-eyed. Carefully, he approached him, couching down so they were at the same eye level. The boy shoved both his hands into his pockets, staring down at the ground as Bellamy greeted him.

“Do you want to shoot a basket like that?” Bellamy asked gently, holding the basketball out to the boy.

“I can’t reach,” he whispered, voice so quiet that Bellamy could barely make out what he had said.

“What if I helped you? Would it be okay if I picked you up?”

The kid nodded and Bellamy beamed, holding out his hand to lead him over by the basket before gently scooping him up under the armpits and urging him to shoot the ball. It went in on the first try and all the surrounding kids cheered excitedly.

After the other kids had drifted back to their own conversations, the little boy introduced himself as Jordan as he clumsily held out his hand for a handshake. Bellamy smiled at him, holding out his fist for a bump instead. He spent the next hour teaching Jordan and a small group of boys how to shoot properly.

Clarke watched from a short distance, grinning broadly as Bellamy bonded with the little boy. He couldn’t be older than six or seven, and he was staring at Bellamy like he was a superhero. She couldn’t blame the kid; Clarke was pretty sure that she looked at her best friend that way too. The scene cracked open something in her heart, something she didn’t really want to address at the moment—or possibly ever.

“That’s the look of somebody whose made a connection,” Anya said, taking a seat next to Clarke on the bench.

***

“I think that Jordan would be a great fit for your family,” Anya smiled, flipping through a manilla envelope that was sitting on her desk.

“He’s an amazing kid! So friendly and really funny once he starts opening up,” Bellamy said excitedly, tightening his arm around Clarke’s shoulders as he spoke.

“Before you get too attached though,” she added, a smile flickering just a touch. “There are some things you should know.”

Bellamy’s heart sank as Anya pulled out more folders from her desk drawer and clicked through some files on her computer. Clarke’s hand moved to his leg, squeezing gently to reassure him. They had been doing this a lot lately, trading casual touches. He had grown used to them now, having her beside him was grounding and comforting but also confusing. There was a small blip in his heartbeat every time she touched his knee or tucked her head into his shoulder. Right now, though, he covered her hand with his, lacing their fingers together as he braced for whatever Anya was about to say.

“Jordan’s parents died when he was two years old, at that time he went to go live with his aunt and cousin, Charlotte. Charlotte’s mother, unfortunately, struggles with addiction. This led to a meth-related house fire which resulted in the removal of Jordan and Charlotte as well as the incarceration of Charlotte’s mother. When they both entered the system, it was found that they have another cousin, Madi. The three have since become bonded as a family and it would be best for them to be fostered into one home.”

“So, three kids? At once?” Bellamy said voice tinged with nervousness.

“You both indicated that you would like to eventually have multiple children, this would just be a head start!” Anya said carefully, turning her computer screen around to show them pictures of all three kids.

“Oh my God, they’re cute. That was unfair,” Clarke murmured, leaning forward in her chair to get a better look at the pictures. The two younger kids had dark hair and big eyes, the youngest could honestly have passed for their biological child. She was all milky hazel eyes and curly hair. She felt tears pricking in her eyes at the sight of them, especially the little girl. There was something in those eyes, something she couldn’t shake.

“How old are they?” Bellamy asked, still seemingly a little skeptical.

“Charlotte is fifteen, Jordan is seven and Madi is either two or three.”

“Dammit, they are cute,” Bellamy admitted, smiling softly at the pictures of the kids. Jordan had really left an impression on him and surely his siblings were equally as gentle and sweet.

Anya turned her screen around, eyeing them both from behind her metal desk. “I’m not going to sugar coat this, don’t let those adorable faces lull you into thinking this is going to be easy. Madi is prone to tantrums, Jordan is extremely sensitive and fragile and Charlotte—let’s just say that taking on a teenager is never simple, she is a tough cookie.”

Bellamy and Clarke nodded, but their eyes were still fixed on where the screen had been moments before. Something about those kids felt right. This was what they had been looking for. Even if it wasn’t going to be easy, this was what they were going to do.

“Madi qualifies for permanent adoption as there are no real records of her parents beyond her birth certificate. Jordan and Charlotte are likely on the path for adoption as well but that is dependent on a hearing regarding Charlotte’s mother. What I’m saying is that this is a long term commitment, there’s no return policy for these children. I wouldn’t recommend this match if I didn’t think it would work but I want you to think long and hard about this before you decide anything. Take a few days, we will need to arrange for a home visit with their other foster family since you haven’t met two of them but sooner would be better than later, their current situation isn’t ideal.”

“What do you mean not ideal?” Bellamy asked, eyebrows knitting together and the fond smile from earlier dropping quickly.

“They’re safe, but there are a lot of kids there and that usually leads to a lot of—unsavory behavior, since they’re harder to supervise. Parents go into fostering for a multitude of reasons, some of which are financial. It’s not always the best situation for kids but siblings, especially with teenagers are hard to place,” Anya explained, eyes flitting back to her computer screen.

“Is there any way we can expedite this process?” Clarke asked, alarmed by the idea of such young kids being around things like that.

“Unfortunately, it is best for all of you if we approach this slowly. These kids have experienced a lot of loss already, we don’t want to get their hopes up. You need to be 100% sure and they need to feel comfortable as well.”

Clarke stole a glance at Bellamy, his shoulders were stiff, and his mouth was in a hard line. Just from his expression, she could tell that his mind was made up too. There was no chance they were going to be able to let go of this now, not after seeing them all. They hadn’t planned for three kids, especially a teenager but that kind of felt like the point.

“Would we be able to have copies of the pictures? It would be nice to have something to show Bellamy’s sister and our friends,” Clarke smiled broadly.

Anya gave them both a soft look, Clarke was pretty sure people who were on the fence didn’t ask about photos. It was clear they were already attached and that their minds were made up. Anya humored them, providing a folder with short bios and printed pictures. This woman really liked her folders, they should probably invest in a filing cabinet.

Bellamy kept his arm around Clarke as they collected their things and stepped out into the cool night air. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Before this week, the thought of feeling an instant connection with a kid had seemed unimaginable but he couldn’t deny that he and Jordan shared something special. Clarke had clearly felt something too when she had seen the pictures. She had been silent since they had walked out, but her hand remained clasped on his bicep. As they neared the car, he found that he didn’t want to let go. Everything about this moment felt perfect, he didn’t want to break it.

Against her better judgment, Clarke pressed up on her tiptoes to gently kiss Bellamy’s cheek. His stubble was scratchy under her lips and she lingered for a moment longer than she normally would have, just enjoying the feel of it. His hand moved to rest on her back, allowing her to tuck her head into the space between his chin and shoulder as she slid down.

Bellamy’s heart was beating so loudly it was muffling the noises around them. He carefully pressed his nose against Clarke’s hair, just breathing in the light floral smell of her shampoo. He could feel the emotions he had long repressed stirring again and it caused a sharp twist in his stomach. He needed to get a grip, it was too early in all of this for him to be slipping so quickly. They needed to be stable for these kids, which meant he had to stop thinking about how easy it would be to tilt Clarke’s head a little to the left and kiss her right now.

***

They pulled up to a worn old house with a chain-link fence in the front, lining the browning grass. There were children’s toys strewn across the steps and the lawn, creating a pathway toward a peeling red door. Clarke balked, she was a little stunned by the area and the house, but it wasn’t exactly her place to comment on them.

Bellamy turned to look at her, smirking when he saw her ill-fated attempt to mask her shock. “I grew up five blocks from here, which means I can inoffensively say that this area is shit and whatever is inside that house isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Great…”

“It’s not going to get better if we sit here staring at it, let’s do this,” he urged, rounding the car to open Clarke’s door for her.

They were met by a short woman with frizzy red hair who greeted them with a bored expression before shepherding them into the living room. Bellamy had been right, the inside wasn’t exactly pretty but it was relatively clean considering the number of kids who lived here. The noise, however, was much more jarring, several kids yelling, the loud thud of feet and a few babies crying. The magnitude of it was already making Clarke’s head spin.

The woman didn’t introduce herself and instead yelled gruffly up the stairs for Charlotte before disappearing into the kitchen. Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other awkwardly, taking a seat on the worn couch until a blonde girl in ripped jeans came running down the stairs.

“Oh,” Charlotte reared back, eying them both wearily. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Clarke asked, standing up so that they were eye level. She adjusted her stance, hoping that keeping her hand on Bellamy’s arm would make them seem more approachable.

“I don’t know. I was kind of expecting you to be old or like wearing super weird conservative clothing. You guys look like the stars of some Netflix movie about Christmas.”

“Thank you?” Bellamy said, trying to suppress the confusion from showing on his face. This was weird, it was a staggering difference from the warm, cute interaction that he had with Jordan. Charlotte was closed off, the picture of an angsty teen, complete with the aggressive black eyeliner and leather pants. She stood with her legs wide, arms crossed against her chest.

“So, what’s your deal? Evangelicals? Infertile? Looking to raise a D1 athlete? He’s not white so it’s not a white savior thing and you both look rich so it’s probably not a money thing,” Charlotte said bluntly, uncrossing her arms to plant them on her hips.

“I grew up a few streets over from here. My mom died when my sister was pretty young, if I hadn’t been old enough to take care of us, we probably would’ve ended up in the system. This is just something I always wanted to do,” Bellamy answered bluntly.

Charlotte’s nodded a little at his response, it was clear that she had not been expecting that answer.

“What about you, blondie?”

“My mom committed fraud and then implicated my innocent dad so she could avoid getting caught. He died in jail before he could be pardoned. I know a thing, or two about incarcerated parents and I wanted to be able to give someone the kind of support I needed,” Clarke shrugged, digging her fingers into Bellamy’s arm as she spoke. There were only a handful of people who knew the truth about her family, and she hadn’t intended on sharing it with this girl, but she couldn’t help herself. They hadn’t been expecting her to be so antagonistic.

“Don’t think that just because you think you’re tragic that you can ‘save me’, okay? We aren’t the same. I have a mom, I don’t need new parents,” she sneered, making sarcastic air quotes with her fingers to prove her point.

“We weren’t trying to—” Bellamy began, neck heating from the conflict but Charlotte interrupted, holding up a hand to stop whatever he was going to say.

She smirked at them, but she didn’t say anything, instead beckoning for them to follow her as she walked through the house. Clarke and Bellamy shared a look, trailing behind her. This was already going worse than they had thought and Charlotte had barely said a word.

The backyard was more of a dirt patch than a yard and there was a small cluster of kids, drawing messily with chalk on a concrete slab. Charlotte waved her hand, beckoning toward the kids. Jordan’s head popped out from the group and Bellamy beamed, waving broadly at him. With a gap-toothed grin, he extracted himself from the crowd and walked toward them, holding the hand of a small toddling girl.

“Mr. Bellamy! I can’t believe you’re here,” Jordan said cheerfully, picking up the pace a little bit to reach them faster. In the process, he tripped and fell to the ground with a light thud. He immediately burst into tears, rolling over to reveal skinned knees. At the sight of Jordan crying, Madi started crying as well.

Bellamy, Clarke, and Charlotte all lunged forward. Bellamy scooped up Jordan, propping him onto a nearby picnic table to inspect his knees. Carefully, Clarke lifted Madi, propping her against her hip and walking her around the yard in an attempt to distract her. They inspected nearby birds and picked a few flowers but Madi’s wails kept going. Clarke shifted her to her other hip, humming softly and bouncing her. This usually worked with their friend’s kids, but the baby continued to cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m bad, but I didn’t mean to fall,” Jordan blubbered, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked down at his skinned knees. “I ruined my pants. I wore the nice ones because Charlotte told me to.”

“Hey, it was an accident. Accidents happen,” Bellamy soothed, running his hands down Jordan’s skinny arms to calm him.

“But you came to visit me, and I ruined everything,” he continued, sobbing even harder.

Bellamy looked to the door where Charlotte had disappeared, as much as the teenager made him uncomfortable, he could really use her help right now.

Clarke was beginning to get flustered by Madi’s cries, there didn’t seem to be anything that would make them stop. She tried everything she knew, funny faces, weird noises, songs, rocking, distraction and even pulled a dollar from her pocket to try and bribe her. None of it worked. If anything, Madi’s wails seemed to intensify, her tiny face growing red with the exertion. Clarke was worried she would strain herself if she kept going. Desperate, she walked back to Bellamy, only to find that Jordan was also still sobbing. He was apologizing profusely while Bellamy tried to convince him he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Finally, just as Bellamy was about to cry himself, Charlotte reappeared with paper towels, a cookie and a kitten peeking out of her sweatshirt pocket. She handed Bellamy the paper towels and Clarke the cookie before settling down next to Jordan and placing the kitten in his lap.

Clarke held the cookie out to Madi, waving it around a little to make it look more enticing.

“Oreo,” Madi sniffled, face finally untwisting from her crying. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, allowing her to take the cookie and chew on it happily. It was a few moments of silent bliss as Bellamy dabbed the wet paper towels on Jordan’s knees. He seemed to have calmed now, clutching the small white kitten to his chest tightly.

Satisfied with her work, Charlotte leaned back on the table, rolling her eyes at them both. “You two have no idea what you’re doing,” she said smugly, pulling another cookie out of her pocket for herself.

At the sight of the cookie, Madi broke into another round of screams, chanting “Oreo, oreo, oreo,” over and over again. Clarke and Bellamy shared a look, they were in over their heads.

***

“You look like you’ve been hit by a bus,” Murphy chuckled, looking up from his computer as Clarke and Bellamy defeatedly walked into The Hearth office.

As much as she hated to admit it, Murphy was right. Bellamy had smears of blood streaked across his jeans and the ends of Clarke’s curls were coated in a mix of spit and tears. Their morning hadn’t gone anything like they had expected. What was supposed to be a cute morning playing with kids, turned in a nightmare of non-stop crying and Charlotte heckling them.

Jordan never really recovered from his fall, even after Bellamy had put Spiderman band-aids on his knees. He kept apologizing for literally everything. At one point, he had laughed and then apologized for laughing. The whole thing was kind of heartbreaking and had left Bellamy feeling distraught and overwhelmed.

Madi was apparently obsessed with Oreos to the point that she would turn feral for them. Even with a fresh cookie in hand, she was already screaming for another one. One Clarke had put her foot down and said no more cookies, Madi had bit her and wiggled out of her arms to get one for herself.

These kids were nothing like their nieces and nephews, they hadn’t been shown much compassion or discipline which in turn had made them much more difficult to deal with than they had planned for. Sure, Bellamy had known this wasn’t going to be as easy as babysitting Octavia’s kids, but he hadn’t been expecting the madhouse they had endured today. They had only been at the house for a few hours, but Bellamy was pretty sure it had taken a few years off his life.

“Holy shit is that blood?!?” Emori balked, turning the corner from the breakroom and catching sight of Bellamy’s pants.

“Turns out we’re not as good with kids as we thought,” he sighed, collapsing beside Clarke on a nearby couch. The fabric was white, and Clarke was normally super particular about keeping it clean, but she seemed too exhausted to care. Instead of scolding him she just collapsed against his side.

“Charlotte wants us dead, Madi bit me and Jordan thinks that he ruined Bellamy’s life,” Clarke said sadly, burying her face into Bellamy’s shirt so nobody would see the beginnings of tears. She had thought they were prepared, they had so much experience with kids. This whole day had totally blindsided her. As she was restraining Jordan from running away into the street, she had realized they had fallen in love with the idea of these kids, without really understanding who they were.

“Three kids at once is not a joke, I don’t know how you guys do it,” Bellamy agreed, rubbing Clarke’s arm to console her as he held back his own wave of tears.

“We don’t really. At least not in the way most people would think we do. Christopher has bitten us more times than either of us care to admit. Elizabeth spent an entire month saying nothing but ‘no’ and ‘I hate you daddy’, let it be known that it was only daddy and never mommy. Elijah is honestly pretty great, other than the fact that he can’t figure out how to not tie his shoelaces together,” Murphy admitted, using his legs to scoot his desk chair closer to the couch.

“Kids are tough, and most people at least get a few years to practice before they can talk. Don’t beat yourselves up so much. It’s not always going to be apple picking and movie snuggles,” Emori added, rolling her eyes at Murphy’s attempt to move and shoving his desk chair to where he wanted it. “But those good moments make up for the bad.”

“It was just—” Bellamy began, scrubbing a hand over his face. “A lot. Jordan kept crying because he thought he was ruining everything; I didn’t know how to stop it. This is a terrible analogy, but it reminded me of Dobby from Harry Potter, I literally thought he was going to start hitting himself. It was just awful. Octavia was right, I romanticized it a lot.”

“We both did. I had these images of me holding this cute chubby baby and her just giggling and smiling. Instead, she bit my finger and blew her nose into my hair,” Clarke agreed, turning her head back to face everyone after she was sure that the tears had disappeared back into her eyes.

“Yeah that’s kind of the problem when they’re yours, there’s nobody to hand them off to when they start getting annoying.”

“John,” Emori groaned, smacking her husband lightly on the leg. “What he means is that you guys are right to an extent, being a parent sucks a lot of the time but it’s also the most rewarding thing we’ve ever done. Whatever you guys decide to do, we’re going to back you up but for what it’s worth, you guys can handle it.”

With a final smile, Emori gave them both a soft look, lightly smacking Murphy on the shoulder to indicate that they should leave them alone.

“Either way, you probably should go home. You actually do look like shit,” Murphy shrugged, standing up to follow his wife around the corner.

Clarke felt like she couldn’t move, everything they had been planning for was slipping away. They couldn’t handle the kids. No kids meant no house and no Bellamy. She had grown used to the idea of living with him, most of their stuff had already been unpacked in the new house. If they gave up this dream, they were also giving up this new level of intimacy they added to their friendship and she wasn’t sure if she could let that go. But she also didn’t know if she could handle those kids.

“C’mon, don’t ever tell him I said this, but Murphy is right. We need to go home,” he urged gently, holding out his hand to help Clarke up.

Neither of them spoke on the way home, usually, Clarke enjoyed their quiet car rides but this felt different. There was sadness in the air. It was a stark contrast to the excitement they had been buzzing with when they had left this morning. She looked down at her colorful sweater that was now smeared with Oreo crumbs and snot, they had been so naive, it was honestly unbelievable.

They split off into their respective showers, keeping to themselves for most of the afternoon. Clarke worked her damp hair into a loose braid, wandering around the upstairs of the house. Ryder was following closely behind her, paws clicking on the hardwood as he walked. She found Bellamy sitting on the floor of one of the kid’s rooms, spinning a nail on the floor like a top. Wordlessly, she sat down beside him, watching intently as the nail spun in slow circles.

“Are we terrible people if we don’t go through with this?” he said, eyes still focused on the nail.

“I Googled whether its ethical to adopt a newborn from another country. The results were shocking, turns out that it’s definitely questionable territory,” she agreed, putting her finger on the nail to still it’s movement, forcing Bellamy to meet her eyes.

Bellamy shifted, turning so his head rest in her lap. It had been a long time since they had sat like this. It was usually reserved for tragedies, bad breakups, failed finals, and really bad financial decisions. Clarke readjusted so his head laid against the junction of her hip, allowing her the freedom to smooth his hair away from his forehead.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Clarke’s fingers against his scalp. Before knowing Clarke, he never would have let his guard down like this. Never would have allowed himself to be so vulnerable. But he knew he could trust her, that she would somehow help the ache of sadness go away.

Part of him wondered whether the failure of this whole thing would give him the courage to tell her how he felt. After fifteen years, the urge to be more had reared its head again and this time he didn’t know if he was strong enough to ignore it. But even with the potential of being with Clarke romantically, the thought of letting this fall through still left him feeling hollow.

Clarke massaged his temples gently with her fingers, smiling when a small groan slipped from his lips. This had always been his weakness. Feeling bold, she slid her fingers from his temples to his neck, slowly working the tension from his muscles. Bellamy felt his whole body relax as Clarke’s fingers dug into his shoulders.

They both jumped when the doorbell rang, exchanging confused looks.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Bellamy asked, carefully easing himself out of Clarke’s lap.

“No, but I have a feeling that I know who it is,” Clarke sighed, following Bellamy out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Sure enough, Octavia, Lincoln, Jasper, Raven, Murphy, Miller and Emori were all waiting for them behind the door. Lincoln held a stack of pizzas so tall, it reached just under his chin.

“Are you going to let us in or are you just going to stand there staring at us?” Octavia said impatiently, pushing past her brother to get a better look at the house.

Everyone gasped and marveled at the house, agreeing that it was some of their best work.

“Miles, Maya, and Eric took one for the team and are currently babysitting eleven kids,” Raven explained, pausing to root through their fridge for beers while the rest of the group continued out to the patio. “We’ve got to make the best of it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, laughing when she realized that Bellamy had padlocked the beer to the back of the fridge with a bike chain.

Once the beer had been extracted, the pizza had been laid out and an inaugural fire had been lit in the firepit, they all settled into their respective spots. A small amount of her sadness ebbed away as Clarke took in all their friends, this was their original gang. For a minute, she could almost pretend like they were back in Bellamy and Miller's gross old apartment moving smores over a Bunsen burner.

“We are gathered here today in honor of mom and dad, who have been parenting since the day they met me,” Jasper cheered, holding up his beer and knocking it into the air.

“I don’t think either of us will ever forget seeing you in the hallway trying to extinguish your hair in a water fountain,” Bellamy chuckled, clinking his bottle against Jasper’s.

“You somehow managed to salvage most of his hair, which is truly a testament to you both,” Raven agreed, shaking her head.

“Holy shit, I missed this. Quick, someone make fun of Murphy, I’m feeling nostalgic,” Octavia yelled from her place on Lincoln’s lap.

“John Murphy likes to be the little spoon,” Emori blurted out, dodging when her husband threw a pepperoni at her.

The whole group devolved into laughs, trading roasts about Murphy and stories about college. It was almost painfully comfortable and familiar. Despite the pang in her chest, it almost helped Clarke feel normal. But something was still off. There wasn’t a single mention of kids, and honestly, it felt weird. Both Bellamy and Clarke could sense the purposeful lack of funny anecdotes about their nieces and nephews.

Finally, during a beat of silence, Clarke couldn’t take it anymore. If there was one thing that drove her crazy, it was people walking on eggshells around her.

“Bellamy and I aren’t sure if we want to go through with this anymore,” she admitted, watching as all their friends looked sheepishly at one another. From their expressions, it was obvious that Murphy and Emori had already relayed the information.

“We could tell you that you’re going to be amazing parents till we’re blue in the face, but we can’t change your minds. Even though most of us think you’re wrong,” Miller said bluntly, taking a long sip from his bottle.

“Most of us sitting here have been parented by you two at some point, be it willingly or unwillingly,” Murphy added, gesturing around the group. “I don’t really remember but Bellamy fireman carried me out of a frat party and walked all the way to the hospital with me on his back when I got alcohol poisoning.”

“Ahh the days before Uber when we were too poor for an ambulance,” Lincoln said dryly. “Bell, you raised my favorite person on earth, so I obviously think you did a decent job.”

“Clarke psychologically tortured my ex after he cheated on me,” Emori threw in, smiling warmly at Clarke. “We barely knew each other but you literally exposed him to everyone and then you introduced me to Murphy.”

“She also cut out all of my dreadlocks during my Rastafarian phase. It took like twelve hours and smelled like a dying ferret, but you did it anyway,” Octavia laughed.

Clarke could feel herself tearing up as their friends continued with the stories, beside her, Bellamy subtly swiped a hand underneath his eye. She felt really lucky to have this group of crazy people in her life. Hearing all of these, one after the other was a walk down memory lane. It made her feel like she was in a simpler time. Back when they were all carefree and young. When it still felt possible that she and Bellamy would figure it out someday.

“On top of the fact that you’re amazing with all of our kids,” Jasper added.

“You guys weren’t there today, it was really bad,” Bellamy said finally, giving them all a sad smile.

“All of our kids have really bad days too. The other day, Claire almost made it to the potty but was just a little short and pooped in her underwear. Then she pulled her pants down and stepped in the poop. I had to clean poop from in between her toes while she pulled my hair and screamed. I think I have a bald spot now and I might be slightly hearing impaired,” Octavia explained, chuckling a little and pulling back her hair to show a fake bald spot.

Everyone nodded, throwing in their own stories about times their kids had driven them crazy or plotted to kill them.

“I gave Elijah a bath the other day and then turned around for one second and he was gone, I asked all the other kids and they had no clue where he went. I basically tore the house apart, I even checked underneath the car. Lo and behold, he was hiding in the curtain in his bedroom. When I found him, he was inconsolable because apparently, we were playing hide and seek and I forgot about him,” Emori chuckled, shaking her head at the memory.

“One bad day doesn’t mean you’re going to be bad parents. Those kids have been through a lot, all things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“That’s true, Charlotte could’ve stabbed us,” Bellamy said wryly, running his hand through his hair.

After a while, the back and forth of the kid stories slowed and they slowly shifted the conversation back to their lives. It had been a long time since just their college friends had been able to hang out alone. Somehow it felt like no time had passed at all.

By the time the pizza boxes were empty, and everyone was starting to leave, Clarke felt significantly lighter than she had earlier. Maybe they had been a little dramatic after the meeting. Hearing all the stories helped her realize that even though Jordan and Madi had been through a lot, their behavior could pretty much be chalked up to being normal kids. She still wasn’t so sure about Charlotte though.

After putting out the fire, she found Bellamy strewn across the living room couch with one of Anya’s blue folders in hand.

“I took it out to show Octavia the bios,” he sighed, eyes still fixed to the folder. “But I can’t stop looking at the pictures.”

“As much as this whole thing scares the hell out of me, I feel like I’m going to wonder about those kids for the rest of my life if we don’t do this,” she agreed, sinking down onto the couch next to him.

“Me too, and as much as it was corny, our friends do have a point. We make a pretty solid team Griffin.”

“That we do Blake,” she smiled, propping her head against his shoulder.

“Is the world ready for the Griffin-Blakes?”

“Why can’t we be the Blake-Griffins?”

“Because that’s the name of an NBA player.”

“Oh yeah, the one who dated Kendall Jenner,” Clarke teased, taking the folder from him to look at the pictures again.

“We’re going to have to fix this sports thing once we have the kids. I will not raise athletically ignorant children.”

“If Jordan wants to do ballet then he does ballet, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “So we’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this. Call Anya. If she doesn’t answer leave a message,” Clarke agreed, holding out her phone to Bellamy.


	4. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Forever Young" by: Bob Dylan

“Do you guys have any questions? Is everyone feeling comfy?” Anya asked, looking between Bellamy and Clarke as the kids stared wide-eyed at them. They all were clutching black Hefty bags and awkwardly tugging at their clothes, glancing nervously toward the house. Even Charlotte was uncharacteristically silent.

“I think so,” Bellamy answered, trying to suppress the urge to grab Clarke’s hand out of nervousness. He was trying to work on limiting the touches until he could get his emotions under control. The last thing he needed was to accidentally do something stupid.

Anya gave them both a reassuring smile, handing them one last folder before waving at the kids and climbing back in the van.

They watched as the faded grey van crunched against the gravel, pulling out of the driveway. It was official, these were their kids. They were a family.

Carefully, Clarke knelt down, keeping her voice quiet, “Do you guys want to see your rooms?” she asked, holding her arms out to see if Madi was willing to be carried. Clarke was a little hesitant after last time, but she had pinned her hair up to avoid another nose-blowing situation.

Madi immediately wrapped her arms around Clarke’s neck, sticking her thumb into her mouth and resting her head against her shoulder. She smelled faintly of soap and the feel of her little hand grabbing onto Clarke’s sleeve made her heart squeeze. She smiled, enjoying the sweet moment. Bellamy followed suit, allowing Jordan to jump on his back and ride piggyback style up the driveway.

Charlotte followed, watching them carefully with her garbage bag clutched tightly to her chest. It might have been Clarke’s imagination, but she almost thought there was a trace of a smile on the usually sullen teen’s face.

“Puppy!!” Madi squealed, wiggling out of Clarke’s arms to run toward Ryder. True to form, Ryder rolled onto his back, wagging his tail wildly while Madi gently petted him with one finger.

“Does he like cats?!” Jordan asked nervously, clutching his small kitten to his chest. The cat meowed in protest, but Jordan kept his skinny arms caged protectively around the little white ball.

“He’s super sweet. I have a cat too, his name is Demeter and they’re the best of friends,” Bellamy explained, reaching out to gently pet Jordan’s kitten. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

“His name is Oreo, I let Madi pick it,” Jordan explained, jumping slightly when Bellamy’s orange tabby came wandering out of the kitchen to inspect the new people. “Your cat has a funny name.”

“It’s the Greek God of the harvest and farming. If you want, I can teach you more about it later, the stories are pretty cool,” Bellamy said, excitement flickering at the possibility of being able to share his passion with Jordan. It would be nice to have someone to read myths to again, Octavia had lost interest by the time she was ten.

Jordan nodded, giving Bellamy a small smile as he carefully approached Demeter, holding out a hand for him to sniff. Demeter meowed, pawing curiously at Jordan’s hand before rubbing up against his leg.

“I was right, you guys are rich,” Charlotte smirked, finally speaking after an almost unsettling stretch of silence on her end. “This is a mansion.”

“We—uh, not really, I mean, we flip houses for a living. So, this place wasn’t that nice when we found it,” Clarke tried to explain, stumbling over her words slightly. She had never been comfortable with people perceiving her as wealthy. Abby had been rich, but Clarke and Bellamy were not even close to that level. These kids would never know the likes of country clubs and cotillion lessons. This felt like dangerous territory, Charlotte did not back down from confrontation.

“So you’re professional gentrifiers?”

“No. We specialize in abandoned houses and suburban flips,” Bellamy swooped in, trying to stop the conflict before it started.

“Why don’t we go upstairs? I’m sure you guys must be tired, and those bags look heavy,” Clarke said quickly, looking at Bellamy nervously.

Bellamy nodded, picking up Jordan’s bag and gesturing for them to follow him up the stairs. They had written each kid’s name on their door and stood back to watch as Jordan gently led Madi to her room before racing to his own. Charlotte trailed behind but it was clear that even she was curious about what was behind her door.

They gave the older two kids a minute to take in their space alone, following Madi to her room. She had already dumped her entire Hefty bag onto the floor and was arranging a massive amount of stuffed bears in a line in front of her bookcase.

“Wow, are bears your favorite animal?” Bellamy asked, crouching beside her while she adjusted each one. They were all different shapes, sizes, and colors and seemed to be well taken care of for belonging to such a young kid.

“No. I like doggys. The lady gives me bears,” Madi said flippantly, pointing to each bear and reciting their names to Bellamy. His heart broke as he understood what Madi was saying, these were court bears. The ones they gave kids when they had to see the judge.

Clarke stood in the doorway, watching the heart-achingly sweet interaction. Bellamy hadn’t really had a chance to be with Madi one-on-one in the chaos of the home visit. He was being so patient with her, reciting back each of the bear’s names as Madi explained. The part of Bellamy that had raised Octavia was out in full form.

Quietly, she backed out of the room, moving across the hall to check on Jordan. He was still standing in the doorway, looking around the room. His cat was sniffing around the rug, crawling under the bed and weaving through the bedposts until it finally settled in the windowsill.

“Is everything okay?” she asked gently, kneeling on the floor so that Jordan could meet her gaze.

“This is for me?” he said quietly, staring back at Clarke with wide, dark eyes.

“Yeah sweetheart, this is your room.”

“Whose toys are those?” he probed, pointing toward the bookshelf and cubbies filled with different things that their friends had suggested.

“They’re yours! Everything in this room is yours. If you don’t like those toys, we can go to the store later today and get some different ones—” she explained, pausing when Jordan turned and wrapped her in a tight hug, burying his face into her neck. The beginnings of tears dotted her sweater and she rubbed a hand across his back soothingly, whispering assurances to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled by the knit fabric of her sweater.

“You don’t need to thank us, you’re part of our family now and family takes care of each other. But you’re welcome baby, thank you for coming to live with us,” she replied, voice catching as she pressed her lips against Jordan’s bony shoulder.

“I’ve never had my own room before,” Jordan admitted, gently pulling out of Clarke’s grasp.

“Well, why don’t we have a look around then? I’ll help you unpack your bag.”

Jordan nodded, kneeling onto the blue and grey knit rug and carefully removing items one by one from the bag. Most of them were worn sweaters and jeans, there were a few toys thrown in there too, but they looked old like they were leftovers from when he was a toddler. Finally, Jordan removed a tattered pillowcase from the bag, reaching into it to remove a small, white frame. It was a picture of a sweet-faced, brown-haired woman and a dark-haired man with a dimpled smile. Between them was a chubby laughing baby, their faces were all pressed tightly together with a small out of focus Golden Gate bridge in the background.

“That’s my momma and daddy,” Jordan explained, pointing to each of the people in the picture. “I don’t really remember them because they died when I was a baby.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Jordan look wistfully at the picture. The sting of tears pricked behind her eyes, but she blinked rapidly to ease them away. The amount of loss this tiny boy had experienced in his short life was unimaginable, she wanted to wrap him up and protect him from the world forever. Keep him from having to feel any more hurt. Jordan had had good, sweet parents and fate had drawn him a short card. A surge of protectiveness washed over her as she once again ran her hand down Jordan’s back, if she could help it, this kid wasn’t going to lose any more people in his life.

“Why don’t we find an extra special place for you to put it,” she suggested, standing up and holding a hand out to help him.

“I don’t like looking at it too much ‘cause it makes me feel sad, but maybe over here?” he suggested, pointing to one of the lower shelves on the bookcase.

“That’s a great place,” Clarke nodded, reaching out to help him move the books to make room.

After the picture had been adjusted to his liking, Jordan probed around the room, running a finger against all the toys and books. Finally, he settled up in his new treehouse bed with a book in his lap and Oreo curled at his feet. For the first time since Clarke had met him, he didn’t look stressed out and she breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, an elevated bed probably hadn’t been the best choice considering how accident prone he could be, but she was happy he seemed to be content.

Quietly, she eased out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Jordan could probably use some privacy; she couldn’t imagine he had ever had an extended period by himself.

Bellamy was already waiting for her, peeking around the corner into Madi’s room and watching her while she played.

“Jordan is a kid after your heart, he’s curled up in his bed with a huge book and his cat. All he needs is a tiny pair of glasses and he could be your clone,” Clarke whispered, pulling his elbow gently so they stood away from the bedrooms.

“I knew there was a reason I liked him,” Bellamy grinned, shaking his head. “Madi found the dolls Octavia suggested we buy, and she’s been playing drive-thru with them for the past twenty minutes. Also, she called me ‘Bee-Mee’ and I thought I was going to die from how cute it was.”

“We made the right choice. They’re really sweet kids,” Clarke agreed, looking between both doors.

The weight of the third closed door weighed between them though. Despite their small victories with the other two, it seemed Charlotte was determined to hate them as much as possible. Granted, she was a teenager and teenagers hated everyone, but this level of antagonism definitely went beyond the standard levels on angst.

“Should we?” Bellamy asked, eying the door wearily.

“We’ve gotta give her a chance. If we back down just because she’s mean to us then this will never get better,” Clarke insisted, squeezing his elbow encouragingly.

“Fine, but you go first. You were a teenage girl once, you’re more equipped to handle this.”

“I was a really angry teenager girl but it’s different being on the other end of it,” Clarke groaned, cautiously stepping forward to knock on the door.

They knocked gently and eased open the door, both breathing a sigh of relief when they found Charlotte removing clothes from her bag and placing them in the closet. Clarke was glad she had chosen a neutral gray for the walls, the palate suited most of Charlotte’s things well and they didn’t need to give her another thing to complain about.

“We can go shopping this weekend if you want, I’m sure those bags end up ruining some of your things,” Clarke offered, moving to sit on the desk chair.

“Foster kid fun fact of the day, you can always spot us from a mile away because of the garbage bags. Fit your whole life into a Hefty bag, great for the resume,” Charlotte said, turning from the closet to face them.

Clarke and Bellamy looked between each other for a beat, it was unclear whether they were supposed to laugh or if it was just a dark statement.

“Chill. It was a joke, you guys need to take a breath,” she smirked, resting her elbows on her knees from her spot on the floor.

“We just want to make this comfortable for you. I get that you’re not thrilled about this, but we do care about you,” Clarke said, trying to funnel her frustration into positive energy.

“Like I said, I don’t need new parents. I’m glad that Madi and Jordan finally can have a life that isn’t shit but that’s the extent of what you’re getting from me. You’re not my new mommy and daddy, you’re barely older than me.”

“Uhh, not quite,” Bellamy chuckled, unable to help a soft snort at the suggestion that he was anywhere close to fifteen years old.

“I told you that nobody would believe you were a grandpa,” Clarke laughed, turning to give Bellamy a dry look.

“What?” Charlotte asked, clearly confused by whatever is going on.

“When we were deciding to foster, Bellamy was worried that if he waited any longer to have kids, people would think that he was a grandpa dropping a kid off at preschool,” Clarke explained, voice still laced with laughter.

“Dude you look like you could bench press a car,” Charlotte giggled, giving them both her first smile.

Bellamy rolled his eyes; he couldn’t believe this conversation was still going on but he was glad Charlotte finally seemed to be dropping the antagonism a little bit. They just needed to start slower with her, get her to talk to them before they jumped straight into parenting.

“You’ll learn quickly that Bellamy has a tendency toward theatrics,” Clarke smiled, rubbing her hand across Bellamy’s cheek. He smiled back at her, rubbing his cheek slightly against her hand. “One time, he stubbed his toe and then looked at me completely seriously and asked if it would disqualify him from joining the Coast Guard.”

“It was one time,” he sighed, shaking his head at the memory.

“You guys are _really_ dorky, but it kind of works for you,” Charlotte shrugged, turning back to arranging her closet.

They shared a triumphant look as they backed out of the room, that had been good, better than either of them had expected. There was no need to push it any further.

***

“Are they vegetarians?” Clarke called, through the screen door extracting a tray of ground beef from the fridge. She had made macaroni, salad, and corn on the cobb, but she didn’t want to offend them.

“That probably would’ve come up by now, don’t you think?” Charlotte teased, stepping into the kitchen with Madi propped against her hip.

“Just covering my bases,” she shrugged, sliding the ground beef across the counter.

“The ‘Welcome Home’ sign is cute,” Charlotte conceded, setting Madi down so she could follow Bellamy outside. “Dorky, but cute.”

“If you think that’s dorky, just wait till you see the cake,” Clarke shrugged, turning to stir the macaroni on the stove.

“I’m sitting on the edge of my seat,” she sighed, rolling her eyes overdramatically before disappearing around the corner toward the living room.

Charlotte’s teasing had edged from hostile to just a little fond, even if it still was biting, Clarke would take whatever she could get. She washed her hands and took the tray of burgers out to Bellamy. He was lighting the grill while Madi sat on the wooden table, wrapped in his discarded flannel shirt. She was staring at the flickering flames in awe with a corner of the checked fabric stuffed in her mouth.

Clarke scooped her up, keeping the flannel bunched around her while she held her to her chest. Madi immediately snuggled in, resting her head against Clarke’s shoulder.

“You ready for the best part?” she whispered, edging closed while Bellamy tossed a patty onto the grill with a soft hiss.

“Again, again,” Madi cheered, clapping her hands as he threw another raw burger onto the heat. Clarke smiled, smoothing her hair down gently. At least making Madi smile was relatively easy.

Madi did not grow tired of the grill after the first few burgers and they ended up standing there, cheering for each patty as it hit the flames. Clarke’s teeth chattered as she held Madi tightly, cursing herself for not putting on a jacket before coming outside.

“No more?” Madi frowned when Bellamy began plating the sandwiches.

“All done!” he cheered, stepping closer to Clarke so that he could press a kiss to Madi’s head. Without really considering what he was doing, he also pressed a kiss to Clarke’s forehead as he stepped away.

Clarke’s cheeks burned, the feel of his lips tingling against her skin. He had done that hundreds of times before, but the compound movement of him kissing a baby and then her had sent her heart into overdrive.

She could still feel the imprint of his lips while she clicked on the heat lamps, leaving Madi in her highchair so that she could bring in the other dishes.

The patio had heated up significantly by the time everything had been laid out. Madi had shrugged off the flannel, leaving it pooled around her body in the chair. Clarke smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she took a seat beside her.

“Charlotte, Jordan, dinner’s ready! Hurry up it's going to get cold,” Bellamy called through the doorway, cupping his hand around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Clarke smiled broadly at him, processing the fact that he had just called their kids down for dinner for the first time.

“That was surreal,” he smiled, taking a seat across from her.

“It was like your first real parent moment.”

“How’d I do?” he laughed, watching as Clarke cut up a burger into more manageable sized pieces for Madi.

“Very assertive and dad like, 10/10.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at them again as she stepped out into the patio, assumingly because she had heard the tail end of their conversation. Jordan followed closely behind, the large book for earlier still tucked underneath his arm.

“What’re you reading bud?” Bellamy asked, putting together a plate for Jordan. He had carefully set the book next to him on the table, keeping it within sight.

“Eragon! It’s so cool, there are dragons in it. Can we read some together tonight? Some of the words are kind of big and I got stuck,” he rambled, shoving an enormous bite of mac and cheese into his mouth as he looked between the two of them.

“That sounds awesome, we both love dragons,” Bellamy agreed, smiling so broadly it looked like his face was going to split in half. “We gotta do baths first but we can read a chapter before bed?”

“Ew baths,” Madi said, scrunching her face up tightly.

“Baths are fun! We have bubbles and toys,” Clarke tried, giving Madi an encouraging smile.

“By the looks of this house, the bathtub is probably the size of a swimming pool,” Charlotte chuckled around a mouthful of corn.

“Anything is a swimming pool if you try hard enough,” Bellamy shrugged, lifting a single eyebrow at her.

“In 1756 when Bellamy was a kid, they used to swim in puddles and they were very happy about it,” Clarke added nonchalantly, grinning when Charlotte snorted in response.

***

Bellamy knelt on the floor, using an old rag to sop up the huge river of spilled, soapy water. He didn’t even want to think about the kind of dirt that was mixed in it. Meanwhile, Clarke was trying to use the toilet plunger to extract an army man from the depths of the bowl. Neither of them was sure when it had gotten in there and both Madi and Jordan refused to acknowledge it.

“Can we please switch?” Clarke called, propping her leg against the seat to get a better angle.

“No chance, I’m not regrouting this tile,” he answered stubbornly, wrapping the edge of the towel around his finger to get it into the grooves.

“I give up, the army man just lives in this toilet now,” she sighed, leaving the plunger upright in the toilet as she slumped against the wall, grimacing as some of the remaining water seeped into her jeans.

“He’s smaller than a poop,” Jordan tried helpfully from his stepstool, toothbrush shoved in his mouth.

“That’s a good point Jordan, thank you. Don’t forget to brush all the way in the back,” Clarke assured, smiling at him while she shifted to help Bellamy soak up the last of the water.

Bath time had not been quite as cute as she had envisioned. They had ill-fatedly let Jordan convince them to let him shower by himself, which seemed fine until he managed to turn on the removable shower head and spray water around the entire bathroom. This coupled with Madi making tidal waves by flinging her entire body into the bathwater, made for a bathroom floor that put the Mississippi river to shame.

“We are never putting this kind of tile in a family home again,” Bellamy groaned, sitting back against the side of the tub when he was finally done.

“We have royally screwed over so many people with kids with some of these aesthetic choices,” Clarke agreed, eyeing the places where the wallpaper was already bubbling from the water droplets.

“It looks dry to me!” Jordan said cheerfully, drying his face and moving to stand in between them both. “I’m ready for my story now.”

“Awesome buddy, we’re just going to go put on some dry clothes and put Madi to sleep really quick but then we’re all yours,” Bellamy grinned, wincing as he hauled himself up from the floor.

“Why don’t you go get all cozy and make sure Oreo is okay,” Clarke agreed, ruffling his mop of dark hair fondly.

By the time they both had changed into their pajamas, Madi was already snuggled under her covers with a thumb shoved into her mouth. One of her bears was tucked under her arm and she looked expectantly at Bellamy and Clarke as they came to sit on the edge of her bed.

“Do you want a story?” Bellamy asked, resting a hand against her tiny back. His palm spanned the width of her entire body and his heart seized at how tiny she was.

“She likes having her back rubbed and a song,” Charlotte called from the hallway on the way to the bathroom, not pausing to hear Clarke’s thanks.

Bellamy’s thumb moved slowly against the fabric of Madi’s shirt as Clarke wracked her brain for a song that was good for bedtime. They sat in silence for a few minutes until she remembered a song her dad used to sing to her when she was young. It was an old memory, faded, almost completely gone but if she thought hard enough, she could still hear his scratchy voice in the car.

With a deep breath, she played the intro of the song in her head, looking nervously toward Bellamy as she prepared to sing. She wasn’t bad, there had been a period in high school when she had a guitar phase, but she was never comfortable singing in front of people. Bellamy didn’t really count as most people though; he had seen her do things that she would never dream of doing in front of anyone else.

 _“May God’s blessing keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the sun and climb on every rung And may you stay, forever young,”_ she sang quietly, tucking a curl behind Madi’s ear. _“May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the light surrounding you…”_

Bellamy watched in awe as Clarke sang the old Bob Dylan song, the glow of the nightlight illuminating her face in the otherwise dark room. He had never heard her sing before, but her voice was beautiful. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, Clarke had always exuded the energy of someone who had art in her soul. The song was soft and warm, her voice clear and sweet. The whole thing made his heart ache as he continued to rub slow circles on Madi’s back. At this moment, he didn’t even try to resist the urge to stare at his best friend. Pieces of her updo had fallen out, framing her face gently, catching the pinkish light. Her eyes were half-closed and fixed on Madi, a soft smile on her lips.

She was beautiful. Sure, she had always been beautiful but at this moment, Clarke was the most beautiful person Bellamy had ever seen. He was sure Madi would remember this moment forever, this was the kind of maternal moment people wrote novels about. Hell, he would remember this moment forever. He could tell the song was drawing to a close and he ached to tell her to keep going. He wanted to live in this little bubble forever. But as all good things do, the song came to an end.

A single tear rolled down Clarke’s cheek as she finished singing. Madi’s eyes remained closed, her little shoulders moving up and down slowly. She could feel Bellamy’s eyes on her. The moment had been heavier than she was expecting. The memories of her father, singing again, the vulnerability of the whole thing. She felt full and fragile at the same time. She eased off the bed carefully, trying not to jostle Madi as they slowly exited the room. Closing the door with a small click.

She wasn’t sure who moved first but the second the door shut; she was in Bellamy’s arms. She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the thud of his heart. His arms felt strong around her, but he was holding her carefully, like she would break if he squeezed too tightly. For a second, she closed her eyes, pretending that they were normal parents who were putting their kids to bed and were going to go to bed together after. The whole thing was confusing, but Clarke didn’t care right now. Today had been one of the best days of her life, one the hardest, the sweetest and most fulfilling. It was perfectly punctuated by this hug and she was going to enjoy it.

“Jordan’s been pretty patient, we shouldn’t keep the poor kid waiting,” Clarke murmured, tightening her arms around Bellamy’s torso one last time before reluctantly letting go.

Bellamy gave her a gentle smile, holding out a hand and leading her into the softly lit bedroom. They had hung up string lights along the ceiling and they filled the room with a yellow glow, enhancing the campy feel Clarke had been going for. Jordan was tucked under three blankets on the bottom bunk with Oreo curled at the foot of the bed.

“I saved you guys a spot,” he grinned widely, patting each side of the bed and wiggling so he was exactly in the middle.

At this rate, Clarke was pretty sure her heart was going to explode but she settled between the wall and Jordan, scooting to allow for a bigger gap to accommodate Bellamy’s size.

Adjusting his glasses, Bellamy wrapped his arm around Jordan. His reach overlapped with Clarke’s and their arms laid stacked upon each other cradling Jordan between them.

The book was about magic and dragons, it was the kind of thing Bellamy enjoyed reading himself and it seemed that Jordan was equally invested. He invented different voices for the main characters, trying to do his best to do a dragon roar

Clarke watched as Jordan stared at Bellamy in awe, they really were kindred spirits of some kind. It was incredible. She leaned back, tuning out the story, considering fate. The odds that these two would find each other in the world was kind of spectacular. A lot of incredible and terrible things had happened to lead them to this moment. She had been terrified of this whole thing from the start, it had seemed like they were diving headfirst into darkness, but Bellamy’s steadiness is what kept her going through all the doubt. He was always so sure, so stable, maybe he had sensed something that she couldn’t.

Jordan let out a huge yawn, rubbing his eyes. It was later than they had intended, Bellamy had ended up reading an extra chapter because of how entranced Jordan was. With a smile, he closed the book.

After several goodnight hugs and kisses and promises that they were right down the hall if he needed anything, they clicked off the string lights and tiptoed out of the room.

“Should we kiss Charlotte goodnight too?” Bellamy smirked, glancing at the half-cracked door at the end of the hall.

“I think she would _love_ that,” Clarke agreed with a short laugh.

“Not a chance in hell, goodnight weirdos,” Charlotte called, standing up to close her door.

***

Clarke slumped back against the couch cushions, cradling the steaming mug of tea Bellamy had made for her. An old episode of Mad Men hummed in the background, but she propped up against the armrest, waiting for him to return from the kitchen.

He returned a moment later with his own mug and a poptart balanced on the other hand. Wordlessly, he settled beside her, close enough that her toes bumped against the material of his worn flannel pants. He held up a piece of the poptart for her with a wide grin. This was a relic of their college days, Mad Men and poptarts before bed.

“This was both the hardest and best day of my life,” he said, sinking back into the soft velvet cushion.

“It was nothing like I was expecting but it was a hell of a lot better than the home visit,” she agreed, taking a long sip from her mug.

“How come you never told me you could sing?” he asked, voice laced with something Clarke couldn’t place. It was probably one of the few things Bellamy didn’t know about her. Her lists of secrets were dwindling quickly, down to a few precious few, which for her sake, she hoped he would never find out.

“You never asked,” she shrugged, smiling over the ring of her mug as it dawned on him that she was using his words against him.

Bellamy’s shoulders were tense, despite his happy expression there was something wrong. It was obvious in the way he was sitting.

“What’s bothering you?” Clarke asked bluntly, there was no point beating around the bush anymore.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, taking a drink of tea before continuing. “I’m really happy. Excited for what’s ahead.”

Clarke still had a feeling something was off but she dropped it, obviously, whatever it was, he wasn’t going to talk about it tonight.

“I’m excited too, this whole thing feels meant to be,” she agreed, still eyeing Bellamy carefully.

“You sound like Octavia,” he chuckled, tipping his head back to rest against the couch. “And stop looking at me like that, nothing is wrong.”

Clarke shrugged, giving him a half-smile before turning to watch the episode, the lull of the quiet dialogue easing her stress away. There was no point in worrying over something he wasn’t going to talk about, but she couldn’t shake the curiosity over what was on his mind.


	5. A Revelation

Clarke folded herself over the drawing table, tilting her head so it rested against her knee. From this angle, she could see Bellamy squinting at his laptop. The orange-pink light of the sunrise fell across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw. Beside his legs, Madi sat amid a sea of stuffed bears, her back propped against the curve of Ryder’s side with a picture book in her lap. It was almost a picture perfect domestic scene.

Things had been smooth sailing so far; it was nice but also a little unsettling. They had spent most of their days like this, quietly existing together. There was almost a painful amount of normalness to the whole thing.

As much as Clarke had wanted it to last, Anya had warned them about a honeymoon period and said it would wear off after the kids realized this was a long term situation. But Clarke couldn’t help but hope that this was their new normal.

“Can we have breakfast now?” Jordan asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he stood in the doorway of the master.

They had taken to waking up early for work, it avoided the awkwardness of them not sharing a bedroom and had kept the nature of their relationship from coming up. In typical teenage fashion, Charlotte usually slept in till noon on weekends but the younger two would sleepily stumble in for snuggles until breakfast time.

Clarke stood from her spot, moving to smooth down his bedhead. Jordan smiled sleepily, wrapping his arms around Clarke’s shoulders and burying his face into her neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, scooping him up despite the burn in her arms from his weight.

“How do we feel about oatmeal? It’s kind of chilly today,” Bellamy said, coming up behind them with Madi propped against his hip.

Jordan nodded, head obscured by Clarke’s hair and she smiled, carefully carrying him down the stairs despite him probably being too big for it. It seemed like he had missed out on this kind of affection when he was younger and she didn’t want to deter him, even if it usually hurt her back in the process.

Clarke settled on the couch with Madi and Jordan tucked into each side and queued up The Good Dinosaur while Bellamy went to go make breakfast. The movie seemed to be middle ground between the colorful cartoons that Madi liked and the fantasy magic that Jordan wanted. Bellamy hated it and Clarke had to admit that the voices were starting to grate on her but enduring it was better than listening to the screaming while they fought over what to watch.

Bellamy emerged a few minutes later with four bowls of oatmeal comically stacked in his arms. Giggling, Clarke took two from him, her laughs dissolving when she realized there were four mini Oreos nestled at the top of Madi’s oatmeal. They had been trying to wean her off of the cookies for a while now, but she demanded to have them with every meal. Every time they refused, she would scream and cry until she had one. Once, Clarke had tried to be the bad guy and held firm but after ten minutes of wide eyed sobbing, Bellamy had caved and bypassed her.

It was frustrating. Bellamy usually agreed with her on almost everything, they had always been a good team. But he seemed absolutely incapable of disciplining the kids, especially Madi. Jordan was sensitive and didn’t tend to act out but anytime Madi required discipline, Bellamy either ignored it completely or suddenly became busy. It was annoying, and Clarke was quickly growing tired of being the bad guy.

With a sigh, Clarke shoved a baby spoon into the bowl and handed it to Madi. It wasn’t worth getting into today, removing the cookies would likely cause a thermonuclear disaster that they didn’t need on a Saturday morning. But she did shoot Bellamy a glare over Jordan’s head, which he pointedly ignored in favor of inspecting his own oatmeal.

By the time the movie credits rolled down the screen, Charlotte came banging down the stairs, ignoring them entirely to dip into the kitchen. There were a series of clatters and the whir of the Keurig before she reemerged with a cup of coffee in hand and plopped heavily into an armchair.

“I need one of those tri-fold poster things for the science fair next week,” she said over the rim of her mug, looking expectantly between her foster parents.

“Science fair?” Bellamy asked, mouth tilting into a wide smile, “Well that’s exciting.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, “I’m not curing cancer, it’s just a stupid project.”

“I don’t know, seems like a pretty big deal to me. We can go to Target later, Jordan needs new socks too,” Clarke smiled broadly, standing up to clear the bowls and ruffling Charlotte’s hair on the way to the kitchen.

***

Bellamy pushed the heavy red cart with one hand while trying to hold onto to Madi with the other. Jordan had run further ahead, and he was trying to keep eyes on him while he weaved from aisle to aisle. Desperately, he scanned around for Clarke who had vanished with Charlotte toward the craft area. Turns out, keeping tabs on two small humans in a crowded store was harder than it looked.

Carefully grabbing the back of Jordan’s shirt, he steered them toward the boy’s clothing to throw a few packs of socks and some underwear in the cart. He only had a few moments before Jordan ran headfirst into a rack of clothes and knocked mountains of t-shirts onto the floor. The thick string of panic ran up his neck as Jordan’s lip began to quiver and he hauled Madi up and plopped her into the cart before bending to clean the mess.

Madi immediately erupted into a fit, “Nooo! Let me out!” she screamed, banging her fists against the side of the cart. “No!!! I don’t like.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me, I didn’t mean to!” Jordan babbled, hot wet tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bellamy’s head whipped up at his words, just in time to see a few concerned women drift over to see what the commotion was about. Their faces were filled with a mixture of judgment and disgust as they looked at him.

“Honey, nobody’s going to hit you,” he assured, turning away from the crumpled shirts to run his hands up Jordan’s arms. “We’ve never hit them,” he called to the small gaggle of women, who had started to murmur amongst themselves.

Madi continued screaming as Jordan’s tears soaked into the shoulder of Bellamy’s shirt, the shirts laying forgotten while he tried to soothe them both.

He heard one of the women in the crowd mutter, “Control your children,” and turned to see Clarke glaring at her as she pushed past. Charlotte stood a healthy distance away, seemingly not wanting to be associated with the mess.

“Congrats you got a show, please disperse,” Clarke snapped, waving her hand at the group while she moved to remove Madi from the cart. Madi’s screams continued for another minute until she finally calmed down, blowing her nose loudly into her hair.

Clarke sighed, bending down to start cleaning up the shirts while Bellamy assured Jordan that he hadn’t ruined everything.

Jordan remained clung tightly onto Bellamy, murmuring muffled apologizes into the soaked cotton of his sweatshirt as they continued through the store. The shirt display didn’t look perfect by any means, but Clarke had made a decent effort to ensure that everything was cleaned up off the floor. They just needed to get out of here, half the store was staring at them while they rushed through the aisles with a cart full of underwear and art supplies.

Everything seemed relatively calm until they neared the checkout. Madi burst into a run suddenly, causing Clarke to rush after her. They both ground to a halt in front of an endcap that was loaded with—Oreos. Madi shrieked in delight grabbing one package in each hand and holding them close against her body. Clarke groaned, bending to gently pry the blue plastic packages from Madi’s ironclad grip.

“We’re not buying any Oreos today,” she said gently, pulling on the package.

Madi let out an earsplitting scream, holding the package even more tightly to her body. It was likely half the cookies were crushed under the force of her grip.

“C’mon Mads, we have a lot of yummy food at home,” Clarke tried weakly, cheeks heating as she felt eyes begin to turn on them.

“You’re a whore,” Madi snapped, bending down to bite down on Clarke’s hand.

“Madison!” Charlotte snapped, flying out from behind Bellamy and suddenly coming to life. “You don’t talk like that.”

Clarke turned quickly to assure Charlotte she could handle it but it was too late, it seemed that some big sister nerve had been hit and there was no turning it off.

“No lunch or dinner if you keep acting this way,” Charlotte yelled, roughly grabbing one of the Oreo packages from Madi.

The crowd around them gasped and one of the women from earlier held a hand to her chest. Clarke could see this situation slipping away from them very quickly.

“We’re not starving anyone here,” she assured some of the nearby women, giving Charlotte a stern look before turning back to take the Oreo package from Madi.

“Let me handle this, that’s not going to work,” Charlotte bit back, pushing Clarke’s hand away so she could grab more forcefully at the cookies.

“Back down Charlotte,” she snapped, just as Madi reached out and tugged sharply on a handful of Clarke’s hair. This shock of the pull created enough time for Madi to slip away, cackling wildly with the Oreos in hand.

Clarke looked around, of course, Bellamy was nowhere in sight. Her scalp was smarting from the pull and her heart was beating wildly as she chased behind Madi. Catching the tiny girl around the middle and she hauled her back to where Charlotte was leaning against an aisle.

She said nothing, just raised one eyebrow smugly.

“We’re leaving,” Clarke huffed, raising her voice so that it cut through Madi’s screams.

Between the faint, dull ache on her scalp and the ringing in her eyes from the screaming, Clarke was seeing red by the time they found Jordan and Bellamy by the doors with a cart full of bags. Jordan was smiling widely, chewing on some kind of candy and clearly over his meltdown from before. For what it was worth, Bellamy at least had the decency to look ashamed, avoiding Clarke’s gaze as they loaded the bags into the car.

It was a tense car ride home, silent save for the occasional huff from Madi who was still upset about her cookies.

Wearily Clarke braced herself for screams as she lifted her out of the car seat but there was a shocking silence. They were almost to the door when Madi screamed, “I hate you,” before tugging on a piece of hair one last time and wiggling out of Clarke’s grip.

“You should’ve just let me handle it,” Charlotte fumed, pushing past them both to follow Madi inside. “You have gum in your hair by the way.”

Sure enough, when she reached out, there was a small sticky wad at the tip of her hair. A flash of murderous anger washed over Clarke and she could feel the heat rising against her neck.

“Hey buddy, why don’t you go inside and put your new socks in your dresser? I need to have a little talk with Bellamy,” she said carefully, struggling to keep her voice level.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked softly, looking up at her with wide eyes that were still a little red. “It was my gum.”

“No sweetheart, it was an accident. It’s just hair,” she assured, kissing Jordan’s cheek gently and urging him toward the door.

Bellamy’s heart raced as he watched Jordan’s narrow form retreat towards the door. He could feel Clarke glaring at him so hard that it was burning through his skin. Wordlessly, he followed her as she stormed toward the truck, dust kicking up from the force of her footfalls. Her silence was unnerving, she was on the brink of a meltdown and he could feel the dangerous shift in the air. It was like a storm had broken in the sky, the sharp heat of lightning tingling against his arms.

Once they were safely in the cab of the truck, Clarke turned to him. Her eyes welled with tears, but her face read pure anger. Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time Clarke had looked at him like that. It stung. The heavy sting of guilt weighed at his stomach as he took in her mangled hair with the bright pink knot of gum in it. In hindsight, that had been a dumb move. Neither of them spoke, the tension electrifying the air until it was almost unbearable. It was so painful that Bellamy longed to break the silence, but he knew better. He had to wait until she was ready.

“What the fuck Bellamy?! What the actual fuck!” she yelled finally, voice cutting through the air and slicing straight to his core. “You can’t just abandon me to handle all the discipline. I’ve been spat at, bit, cursed at, had my hair pulled and now—” her words trailed off as she gestured toward her hair, voice catching slightly. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill but she took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tried, guilt bubbling until it was an ugly burn.

“You what? Can’t be the bad guy? Well, guess what? I don’t want to be the bad guy either! Do you think I like being abused like this?”

“Except that Jordan doesn’t look at you like you’re about to beat him within an inch of his life every time you raise your voice,” Bellamy snapped, finally admitting the fear that had been niggling at him since the beginning. “I can’t discipline them!”

“You have to show them that there’s a difference between discipline and abuse. I can’t handle this by myself.”

“Well, I don’t know how to do that!”

“Maybe you should talk to me about things like this then. We’re supposed to be a team Bell but today I felt really fucking alone. You can’t be the storybooks and Oreos guy while I’m the mean witch who steals cookies,” Clarke yelled, voice cracking at the end of her sentence as her resolve started to fade away. The weight of today was starting to hit her, and she couldn’t fight the lone tear that escaped down her cheek.

“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing either, I’m trying my best,” he yelled back, emotion choking his words.

They sat in silence for a beat, both of the verge of tears, just looking at each other. It was painful, the weight of it all struck something deep in Bellamy’s soul. Finally, Clarke looked away, shifting her gaze from Bellamy to a spot on her jeans. His heart ached at how defeated she looked, mascara dripping down her cheeks and the wad of gum hanging limply against her neck.

“Fuck—” he groaned, scooting across the bench to place an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “What happened to us?”

“Turns out parenting a group of college kids isn’t really anything like parenting actual kids,” Clarke chuckled weakly, wiping away at the tears.

“Yeah, Jasper never put gum in your hair,” Bellamy agreed, fingering the ruined strand of hair gently. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just do better,” she replied, shaking her head.

“I’ll handle the next Madi meltdown. I promise I’m going to work on this,” he assured, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

“We can work on this together,” she agreed, cracking a small smile.

“Why don’t we start with getting this gum out of your hair?” he chucked, giving her shoulders one last squeeze before pulling away.

***

Clarke leaned back against the bathroom counter, today had been worse than she expected. It seemed like their honeymoon phase was officially over, despite her delusions that their kids might just be perfect. Fueled by his guilt from earlier, Bellamy had insisted on putting both Madi and Jordan to bed by himself tonight. This left Clarke her first slice of alone time since they had brought the kids home. Normally she would’ve taken a long bath and enjoyed it, but instead, she spent almost an hour working on the gum that was still tangled in her hair. Despite her best shampoo efforts and a few tablespoons of wasted peanut butter, it was a lost cause.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Bellamy padded in, a pair of metal scissors in his hand. His hair was flattened in the back from where he had been lying down with Jordan minutes before and it was heartachingly endearing.

“I used to cut mine and O’s hair for a while when she was in middle school, I figured I could help,” he offered with a careful smile, clicking the scissors for emphasis.

Most of the animosity she had been holding from earlier quickly slipped away as she nodded sadly, moving to sit on top of the closed toilet lid.

“I tried everything, but nothing worked. Not even peanut butter,” she sighed, holding up the wet strand.

Bellamy’s fingers brushed her neck while he gathered her undamaged hair into a ponytail, her strands were quickly drying and he ran his fingers through it, massaging her scalp lightly. A soft moan slipped from her lips at the feel of his fingers and she tipped her head back, reveling in the sensation.

Finally, he clicked the scissors once, cutting off the tiny pink blob with a single snip. Clarke kept her eyes closed, too afraid to see how much he had taken off. She trusted him, probably more than anyone else in the world. Bellamy wouldn’t ruin her hair.

The gentle brushing and faint snips were soothing as Bellamy worked to even out her cut. Every so often, his fingers would brush against her neck or her collarbone, sending a flurry of shivers down her spine. Once he reached the back, he knelt down beside her, the faint heat of his breath tickling the hairs at the back of her neck as he hummed softly. She couldn’t make out the song but it was soothing. The warmth of his hands coupled with the gentle song lulled her into a comfortable state.

Clarke had never considered haircuts to be intimate before, but she felt extremely vulnerable as Bellamy made his way around her head. His movements were gentle and practiced like he had done it hundreds of times before. Maybe he had. It wasn’t often that she considered what his life must’ve been like before college. Bellamy didn’t talk about it much, but it couldn’t have been easy. Her heart ached as she thought of a fresh-faced teenage Bellamy, nervously cutting Octavia’s hair for the first time. She had never been able to stay mad at him for long, but the brush of his hands coupled with her ponderings of how he learned to do this in the first place, were making it exceptionally difficult.

“Almost done princess, it looks pretty good if I do say so myself,” he said, a smile evident in his tone. He nudged her knees apart, kneeling between them to do her bangs. The heat of his torso seeped into the inside of her thighs and radiated throughout her entire body. Thoughts of Bellamy’s childhood slipped away and were quickly replaced with less—wholesome thoughts. He was so close, so warm and solid. It was making it hard to think.

She felt him lean back, immediately missing the heat of his body against hers. Slowly she opened her eyes, coming face to face with Bellamy’s fond grin. He was only a breath away and they locked eyes, studying each other unsteadily. Her heartbeat stuttered; brain still fuzzy from the prolonged contact. Putting aside her sanity for a second, she reached out to rest her palm against his jaw.

“Well?” she asked, rubbing her thumbs against the stubble on his cheek. “How bad is it?”

Bellamy paused for a moment, eyes filled with something Clarke couldn’t decipher before he reached out and tucked a piece of her bangs behind her ear. “It’s perfect.”

With a tilt of her head, she used his shoulders for balance as she pushed up from the toilet lid. He had done a good job. Her hair was short, a straightforward cropped bob, but she liked it. There was a simple charm to it and it framed her face well.

Wordlessly, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around Bellamy’s torso. He paused for a second, almost like he was caught off guard by the gesture before returning her hug. They stayed like that for a while, just reflecting on the day and enjoying the weight of another person in their space. It was comforting and familiar. Bellamy rested his cheek against the crown of Clarke’s hair, letting himself sink into the clean, floral scent of her shampoo. He had been really trying to resist doing this lately, but the temptation got the best of him, he would never get tired of this feeling.

“I’m sorry about today, you’re not alone in this. Not now and not ever,” he whispered against her hair, tightening his arms around her.

“I know, I’m sorry too. I just got overwhelmed,” she agreed, snuggling further into his chest. “You had a point. We can’t just yell at them. They’re acting like this for a reason and we have to understand that.”

“I mean sometimes we have to yell at them. We can’t really have a 3-year-old calling people whores.”

“That was—unexpected.”

They both chuckled, holding onto the hug for a beat longer. Neither of them wanted to separate but the hug was lingering past what was regularly acceptable. With a final squeeze, Bellamy unwound his arms and bent to sweep some of the scraps of hair into the trash. The tension from earlier was gone but it had been replaced with something else. The same inexplicable sense that seemed to linger every time they were alone late at night.

Logically, Bellamy knew what it was, but he knew better than to try and put his finger on it. He felt a tug of longing as they said their goodnights and disappeared behind their respective doors. Part of him had wanted to stay in the bathroom forever, to just crawl into the moment where she had cupped his jaw and live there. They were separated by ten feet of space. All he had to do was open the door, but the gesture would probably ruin everything. If today had proven anything, it was that he couldn’t trust his instincts, he just needed to act rationally.

***

Bellamy squared his shoulders, holding a baseball mitt carefully against his chest. Across him, Jordan tossed a baseball nervously between his hands.

“You got this buddy,” Clarke cheered from her spot in the grass, giving him an eager thumbs-up.

With a deep breath, Jordan tossed the ball. It only made it halfway between them before sticking in the tall grass, but it was progress.

Clarke cheered, and Jordan beamed, pumping a fist in the air. It was nice to see him developing some confidence. Bellamy had hoped sports would be a way for them to connect and address some of Jordan’s fears. So far it seemed to be working.

“Just a little harder this time,” Bellamy assured, moving to demonstrate the throw to Jordan again. “Don’t be afraid to put a little muscle in it!”

Clarke watched as Bellamy stood behind Jordan, moving his arm in a perfect pitch. Jordan was beaming, he looked happier than he had since the day they had brought him home. The sight of it settled warmly in her chest.

Bellamy jogged back to his spot, smiling encouragingly as he held up his mitt. Jordan nodded, winding back like Bellamy showed him and funneling all his strength into the throw. The ball whipped through the air, he had overshot just slightly and before anyone could react, it made direct contact with Bellamy’s face.

“Shit,” Bellamy winced, throwing his hands out as the force of the ball knocked him off his feet, the metallic taste of blood immediately filling his mouth.

Clarke sprung up, momentarily unsure of whether to deal with Jordan’s sobbing or the blood pouring out of Bellamy’s mouth.

Finally, she decided the blood was more pressing and sprinted into the kitchen for a dishtowel. Bellamy’s shirt and jeans were covered with blood and she dabbed hopelessly at his mouth, pressing down to stop the bleeding. It was hard to tell whether his lip or teeth were causing it, but whatever it was—it wasn’t pretty.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Jordan cried, covering his face with his hands and running into the house.

Clarke wanted to go after him, but Bellamy’s mouth was still bleeding, and she was concerned about the damage the baseball had left behind.

After a lot of dabbing and two ruined towels, the bleeding finally stopped. Upon further inspection, it became clear that Bellamy had bitten through his lip when the baseball made contact. It wasn’t too deep, probably wouldn’t need stitches but it was going to be an ugly healing process.

“How bad is it doctor?” he teased, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll never model again,” Clarke said solemnly, running an alcohol swab over Bellamy’s lip. He cracked a grin, wincing at the tension it put on his lip. “Try to be careful with it until it fully dries up,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone.

As much as she knew she shouldn’t, she bent forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair back as she straightened back up.

“Always putting me back together again,” he murmured, running a hand down her arm.

They shared a look, smiling tenderly at each other. It was nostalgic, Bellamy had gotten into his fair share of fights in college and Clarke had always been the one to patch him up. Even if she didn’t necessarily agree with the fighting. Bellamy smirked as he thought back to the time she had put a Cinderella band-aid on his forehead after he had gotten in a particularly nasty brawl with one of her exes.

“We, uh—should go find Jordan,” he said, voice gravely as he hopped down from the counter. He had momentarily forgotten where they were. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore, cleaning up after a fistfight, they had responsibilities to deal with now.

***

Jordan wasn’t in his room, or in the office or the playroom. Clarke could feel herself starting to panic as Bellamy pulled back the curtains and whipped open the closet doors. They had checked all the rooms upstairs and he was nowhere in sight. The only assurance that was keeping her from completely losing it was the fact that Oreo was curled up at the foot of his bed. Jordan wouldn’t have run away without him.

Desperately, they knocked on Charlotte’s door, hoping he had run to her for comfort.

No answer.

Bellamy knocked again, harder this time, warning Charlotte that they were going to open the door if she didn’t answer again.

Finally, the music turned down and she appeared, sticking her head just barely out the door. She looked hassled and was clearly trying to hide something behind her.

“Open the door all the way,” Clarke demanded, pushing against it. Charlotte held firm, holding the door only a crack. “I don’t have the patience for this right now,” she huffed, leaning all her body weight against the door until it flew open.

Lo and behold, there were six kids in Charlotte’s room, both girls and boys. As usual, the room was in complete disarray, clothes strewn messily on the carpet and papers crumpled in every corner. In the middle of where the kids were sitting was a row of Spiked Seltzer cans.

“I’m feeling like the bad guy today,” Bellamy smirked, chancing a look at Clarke, “Everyone get the **hell** out right now,” he yelled, stepping fully into the room.

“What the hell, you guys can’t do this—” Charlotte protested, crossing her arms and glaring at Bellamy.

“Jordan is missing. So, if you’re done trying to figure out ways to torture us, maybe you can help find him,” Bellamy said coolly, still glaring at the group of teenagers behind her. “What part of ‘get out’ do you not understand? Do you need an invitation?”

Charlotte was gaping wide-eyed, “What do you mean Jordan is missing?” she yelled, following Clarke into the hallway.

Bellamy crossed his arms again, shoving his thumb toward the door and shaking his head as the kids scurried past him, practically running to get outside. He followed them, just to make sure that they were actually gone before following the sound of Clarke and Charlotte’s calls to the backyard.

“Any luck?” he asked, bending down to look behind the grill.

“Nothing,” Clarke sighed, running her hand through her hair. “It was only a few minutes, where did he go?”

“Oreo is here, so he couldn’t have gone that far,” Bellamy assured, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I don’t understand how this happened?” Charlotte groaned, turning on her heel to go back inside.

“We were throwing around the baseball and he accidentally hit me.”

“Shit. I—ugh,” Charlotte sighed, sitting at the kitchen table. “Two years ago, we got separated, the family didn’t want a teenager. The dad was a dick, I don’t really know how bad it was, but Jordan’s never really been the same. He’s so scared of everything now. It’s my fault, I should’ve fought harder to keep us together.”

“Charlotte, no. It’s not your fault. That guy is messed up, he should be in jail for hitting kids,” Bellamy assured, bending down to meet her eye level.

There was a beat of silence while Charlotte chewed on her thumbnail, clearly distraught.

“He used to hide under beds?” she said finally, clearing her throat and pushing past him to go back upstairs.

“We’re going to have to deal with that later,” Bellamy sighed, holding out his hand so they could follow her.

Charlotte made a beeline for Clarke’s closed door, whipping it open and dropping down to look under the bed. She did the same for Bellamy’s room while they both went to look into the adjoining bathroom. Sure enough, Jordan was curled up in a ball in the tub, rocking back and forth nervously.

After almost an hour of coaxing, encouragement, and assurances, Jordan finally let Bellamy lift him out.

“Why don’t we go read a little bit? I bet Oreo missed you,” Bellamy whispered, rubbing Jordan’s back.

Clarke watched as they walked out, they needed a minute alone. Jordan needed to understand that every man in his life wasn’t going to hit him. Reading together would be good for them.

“I never pegged you for a White Claw kind of girl,” Clarke laughed awkwardly, shooting Charlotte a glance as she took a seat on the lip of the tub.

“They taste good okay,” Charlotte said defensively, a hint of a smile in her eyes. Eyeing Clarke, she took a seat on top of the closed toilet, expression unreadable. “I’ve been by myself for a long time. I’m not really used to having help.”

“Well, we want to help you. We’re not trying to be your parents, but it’d be nice if you weren’t trying to make things hard on purpose.”

“It’s pretty obvious you care about Jordan and Madi, I know they make it hard sometimes.”

“They’re kids, shit happens. You’re still a kid too. Do I love that you’re drinking White Claws and sneaking boys into your room? No. But at least it’s age-appropriate behavior.”

“Bellamy really seemed to enjoy that dad moment,” Charlotte chuckled, face softening into what could almost be considered a smile.

“He’s got a younger sister with a wild streak, he’s well versed in breaking up parties,” Clarke laughed, enjoying the moment of peace. It was nice to not be on the defense.

“What’s the deal with the separate bedrooms by the way?” Charlotte asked, cocking her eyebrow as she looked between the adjoining doors.

Clarke’s stomach dropped. Where moments before she had been almost hopeful over this moment, there was now a pit of dread. Sure, she hadn’t expected to be able to lie to them forever, but she had at least hoped she and Bellamy would be able to deal with this together. Maybe it was better this way though. For all her melodrama, Charlotte was smart as a whip. Clarke didn’t need her lifelong crush exposed by a teenager.

“I guess honesty is the best policy. Bellamy and I aren’t together romantically, we’re just really close friends,” Clarke admitted, picking at the rip on her jeans.

“I’m sorry what? There’s no way. You two are so disgustingly cute together! Like to the point that it literally makes me feel a little sick.”

“It’s true, it’s why we sleep in separate rooms. We both wanted kids just not a relationship.”

“But the way you guys look at each other—” Charlotte began eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, it was the most enthusiastic Clarke had ever seen her.

“It’s just the way things are. Nothing’s going to change,” Clarke shrugged, smiling half-heartedly.

“I mean, it could. He’s so clearly in love with you and you’re in love with him, right? You’ve just gotta do something about it.”

“No offense Charlotte but I’ve known Bellamy for over a decade, he’s not in love with me.”

“But—”

“It’s not really up for discussion,” Clarke said sharply. Charlotte recoiled, the light conversation from before quickly dissolved and a scowl returned to her face.

“Suit yourself,” she scoffed, pushing up from the toilet and slamming the door behind her.

Clarke slid down the side of the tub, letting out a long stream of air. It had been a long time since someone else had confronted her about Bellamy. It felt weird coming from a teenager, it was doubtful Charlotte would actually be able to tell something like that but her words still stuck. All the feelings and pain Clarke had pushed down from college had been bubbling up lately and Charlotte’s words were the final thing to push her over the edge. She was in love with Bellamy again, she had probably never stopped but there was no way she could deny it now. In the process of her denial though, she might’ve ruined the only good moment she had ever had with Charlotte.

***

The soft glow of her desk lamp filled their home office, silent except for the scratch of Clarke’s pen against her floorplan. After the whirlwind of the past few weeks, it was nice to have some time to herself, just to sit down and sketch.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them, it was probably the first time that they had been in this room alone since the kids had moved in. Clarke had missed this, just existing in each other’s space without having to discuss logistics or deconstruct Jordan’s mental state. The quiet, mixed with the soft light and Bellamy’s faint humming felt like a warm blanket and she wrapped her sweater more tightly around her shoulders, reveling in it.

Her moment was short-lived though. Bellamy’s phone vibrated starkly against the table, lighting up with a picture of Octavia with chopsticks shoved up her nose. He looked up at her and then back down at the phone. They had been neglecting all their friends for the past two months, barely having time to breathe and shower, let alone socialize. For the most part, they had been understanding but it was clear they were ready to meet Jordan, Madi, and Charlotte.

“We’re rescheduling the Mt. Weather trip for the end of the month,” Octavia said simply, not even waiting for Bellamy to say hello. “You’re coming, right? We’re dying to meet the kids.”

“Uhh—” Bellamy stuttered, clicking his phone onto speaker so that Clarke could hear O’s ramblings.

Clarke’s eyes widened, she was clearly as panicked about the idea of a trip as he was. Their whole group usually took a ski trip around Christmas time to Maya’s family’s winter chalet. It had been postponed this year because of Willow’s birth and Octavia seemed to have taken it upon herself to replan it.

“That might be a little overwhelming for the kids O, it’s a lot of people to meet,” Bellamy tried, knowing it was probably futile.

“Yeah we haven’t been having an easy time managing here,” Clarke added, playing anxiously with the ends of her newly short hair.

“Guys, you can’t stay hidden in your farmhouse forever. This is probably the last few weekends of good snow up there anyway, we need to make the best of it. Murphy’s been talking about doing an extra Christmas since we missed out on doing one all together.”

Bellamy looked to Clarke; a make-up Christmas would be nice. Jordan had casually dropped that they had never had a real visit from Santa while they were watching a movie the other night. He had said it so casually, like he had never been expecting it in the first place. The whole thing was just overwhelmingly sad, he had missed out on so many small childhood things it was getting hard to keep track of.

Clarke worried a lip between her teeth, on one hand, Octavia had a point. They couldn’t stay locked up in the house forever, but they also had never successfully managed to go in public without an incident. Since the Target altercation, Clarke and Charlotte had gotten into a blowout fight in the middle of a Forever 21 and Jordan had gotten stuck in an orange bucket in Home Depot.

“What do you say…?” Octavia asked again, clearly growing impatient with their silence.

Bellamy muted the phone, “Do you remember when we thought having kids wouldn’t consume our entire lives?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, thinking back to their naïve conversation in the truck. It felt like a lifetime ago, back before everything had gotten so complicated.

“I think we should do it. We have to re-integrate back into our social lives eventually. It’ll be good for the kids to have a bigger support system, especially Jordan,” she said finally, still chewing on her lip.

“I agree, plus they deserve to have a good Christmas, even if it’s in February,” he nodded, unmuting the phone and confirming with Octavia. It was official, they were going on their first family vacation.


	6. Special Time

The airport was crowded. Had airports always been so crowded? It felt like there were people everywhere, so many places that they could run into a problem. Sharp things and places to hide, it was kind of a nightmare. Clarke had always liked traveling, especially airports. Something was mesmerizing about the whole thing, the hustle, and bustle. Airports were a crossroads, everyone living their own lives, she had always thought it was kind of beautiful. But right now, her sense of wonder slipped down the drain as she gripped tightly to Madi’s hand. Her whole perspective on the world had changed in a matter of a few weeks, and it had never been more obvious than it was right now.

Bellamy came up behind her bending down to tie one of Jordan’s shoes. Stealing a look at him, Clarke shook off her fears. She needed to keep her cool if they were going to survive this. This anxiety needed to be reserved for when Madi bit a flight attendant or Jordan tried to climb into the overhead bin, she couldn’t waste it on security.

There had only been one other time she had felt this horrible in an airport and she didn’t need to get into those emotions right now, she needed to keep a clear head.

“You look like you’re about to shit your pants,” Charlotte smirked, bumping her shoulder against Clarke’s and walking a few paces ahead of her.

“I’m counting all the ways that Jordan could accidentally injure himself in here,” Clarke deflected, scooping up Madi so they could walk in step.

“Yeah sure, that’s it,” she said, flicking a quick glance between Clarke and a clueless Bellamy before shoving her earbud back in and turning away.

Charlotte wasn’t wrong, but Clarke kind of hated that she could see through her so easily. It made her kind of paranoid that Bellamy would figure it out too. The thought of that made her heartbeat tick up and her chest ache. That couldn’t happen, she had made it this far, this uptick would pass. She just needed time…and for Charlotte to stop breathing down her neck.

Before Clarke could spiral further into her panic, Octavia came flying out from seemingly the middle of nowhere. It was like a dark-haired blur as she ran to hug Bellamy, crushing him in the bend of her arms.

“Long time no see big bro,” she said cheerfully, ignoring the glances from people around them. Without missing a beat, she hopped out of Bellamy’s grip and bent to greet Jordan, speaking to him softly.

Within seconds Jordan was beaming and took Octavia’s hand to follow her back in the direction she came. It wasn’t surprising really; she had always had that way about her. People liked Octavia; she was magnetic, immediately likable in a way that few people were. It had always been that way, during their semester abroad in Italy, Octavia had managed to collect a gang of ten boys who would do basically anything she said. Clarke had always just been along for the ride, occasionally resentful of how easily things came to her. But past resentment aside, right now she was just grateful that Jordan and Madi seemed happy.

The kids took well to each other, chatting and comparing toys amongst themselves. Claire took Jordan under her wing, despite being three years younger and had pulled out her iPad to show him all her favorite apps. Thanks to being, the youngest of three, she shared well and soon enough, Jasper was wide-eyed and giggling as they tapped on the screen.

“We’ve been trying to limit the technology thing,” Bellamy chuckled, elbowing Octavia lightly. “Looks like that’s a lost cause.”

“Last week I walked in on Claire rocking her iPad like a baby and calling it Larry. It’s a lost cause,” she agreed, smiling as they watched the two kids play together.

Everyone seemed to have settled into the dynamic well, except for Charlotte who had purposely sat a few seats away from everyone else. It would be almost comical if it wasn’t so frustrating. She was the picture of an angsty teen, hood pulled up, arms crossed and music just loud enough to produce a tinny thud through her headphones. Bellamy shrugged as he and Clarke shared a look, Charlotte was tough. Sometimes it felt like they were making progress with her, but every time she did something nice, it reverted back to hostility almost immediately. He was starting to get whiplash from all the back and forth.

“I’m going to go get something with way too many calories in it from Starbucks because airport calories don’t count,” Octavia said cheerfully, springing up from her seat. Both Bellamy and Clarke’s eye widened as she made her way over to Charlotte and tapped her on the knee. It was hard to make out what they were saying, but shockingly, Charlotte stood up and followed Octavia in the direction of the Starbucks.

“How does she do that?” Clarke balked, a small pang of jealously heating the back of her neck.

“Don’t ask me, the Blake charm apparently skipped me,” Bellamy shrugged, seemingly equally peeved by the situation. He rolled his head back against the thin leather chair, running his palm across his hairline. “We really need this vacation,” he admitted, rolling his head to the side, the tip of his forehead resting softly against Clarke’s shoulder.

“We really do,” she agreed, tipping her head to lean against his. She closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the moment of peace. The kids were occupied, Charlotte didn’t seem impossibly miserable, she could actually breathe. Somehow, despite her anxieties, the airport remained her happy place.

They must’ve fallen asleep at some point because the next thing Bellamy remembered was a sharp shake and the sound of a voice nudging him awake.

“Bellamy! The plane is gonna leave without us!” Jordan exclaimed, climbing into his lap and patting his cheek a little harder than strictly necessary.

“They can’t leave without the most important passenger,” Clarke said groggily, bopping Jordan gently on the nose.

The next few minutes were a blur of ticket scanning, chasing Madi down the jet bridge and stuffing suitcases that were objectively too large into the overhead bins. Clarke let out a soft breath of air when they finally settled into their seats. They were all in a row, Bellamy and Jordan together by the window with Clarke, Madi and Charlotte across the aisle in the middle and across Clarke’s other side sat Justin and Octavia. Jordan and Justin were screaming about their new pilot wings from across the plane, chattering unintelligibly about how they were going to fly the biggest plane in the world one day. It was mind-numbingly loud, but also extremely cute. Clarke was glad Jordan seemed to be warming up so well, she had been worried about the adjustment, but he was thrilled at the prospect of having cousins.

Everyone finally calmed down once the plane took off, settling into their individual activities. The silence was almost unsettling, the only noise was the hum of the plane. Madi fell asleep almost immediately, head pillowed on Clarke’s thigh and thumb stuffed into her mouth. Clarke smiled softly, covering the width of Madi’s back with her hand and rubbing a thumb against her spine. As much as things had been terrible lately, she never got tired of moments like this. Taking one last look at Madi’s sleeping face, Clarke leaned back in her seat, scanning the plane.

Sitting across the aisle with Octavia like this, it was almost nostalgic. They had studied abroad in Europe together in their junior year of college and had spent almost every weekend crammed on cheap flights to any city they could think of. It was one of her favorite memories, trading their CDs across the aisle and trying different airplane sized bottles of liquor. It had been one of the first times in her life she had felt like a real adult and it was really where her love of traveling had come from. She had felt like a different person that semester, someone totally carefree and fun. It had been a nice change from her usual group-mom role.

That trip held almost all her favorite airport memories, but it also held one of her worst. Being away from their friend group had been hard at times, Clarke and Octavia were close but they weren’t best friends. There were plenty of times during their travels where Clarke would see something and wish that Bellamy were beside her. Every old building and historic church, she would take a picture on her digital camera and email them to him en-masse whenever she had access to a computer.

They had traded emails the entire time she had been gone, Clarke telling him about her travels and filling him in on Octavia’s growing fan club and Bellamy recounting the dumb things Jasper did and complaining about his TA workload. It got to the point where she started looking forward to his emails every week, anxiously waiting until the little red icon would pop up in her inbox.

She hadn’t thought much of it until she was drunk in the middle of Paris and found herself slipping away from their group to collect call Bellamy. It had been dinnertime back in America and she had half expected him not to answer, but he had. She had spent the night in the courtyard of their hostel, lying on her back and staring at the stars. They talked about everything under the sun and she racked up an ungodly phone bill, aimlessly talking to Bellamy for almost four hours. They didn’t hang up until she could see a sliver of the sun peeking up from the horizon, and even then, she hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the relief at the sound of his voice, the pang in her chest when it hit her how much she had missed him. It was the first time she had truly understood what people meant when they said home could be a person, instead of a place.

Before leaving she had been dating Lexa, and she had really loved her. But the distance and Lexa’s looming graduation had proven to be too much. She had gone to Europe to nurse her broken heart and hook up with a few hot Italians. She hadn’t expected to miss her best friend so fiercely that she was willing to pay $200 to talk to him on the phone. It had been an eyeopener for her, she just wanted to be with Bellamy all the time; to talk to him, to share everything in her life with him.

That night in the courtyard had solidified something that everyone else had been suspecting for a while, that she loved Bellamy, as more than a friend. She had felt almost giddy on the plane ride home, knowing the Bellamy would be there to pick them up. The thought of hugging him when she got off the plane was enough to make her heart race. She had practiced what she was going to say, there was no way she could keep this to herself. He had to feel that same way, they just clicked. Things like that didn’t come around all the time, she couldn’t waste it.

Clarke closed her eyes when she reached the part of her memory that still caused an acidic sting in her stomach. The part where she had gotten off the plane, full of hope and love, ready to spill her heart out—only to be met by Bellamy…and his new girlfriend Echo.

She squeezed her eyes at the discomfort the memory brought her, trying to will away the image of Bellamy’s hand around Echo’s waist at the baggage claim. The hug she had been waiting so long for, was shaded by the feel of Echo’s eyes on them while she held back tears. Somehow, thirteen years later, that memory still made her whole body feel like it was overheating.

Retrospectively, Clarke knew it hadn’t been fair for her to expect anything from Bellamy—he never knew, completely oblivious to how she had pined over him from across the ocean. She had spent most of college dating other people, Bellamy had every right to get a girlfriend while she was gone. They had always been friends, best friends…and best friends were happy when their friend found someone they cared about. In end, it was probably better that she never told him. It had given her years of a beautiful friendship with the best person she had ever known.

Maybe that was why she didn’t hate airports, even though baggage claims still occasionally made her feel a little uncomfortable. Walking off that plane had led to months of heartbreak; months where she had to fake that it didn’t feel like her heart stung every time she considered what could’ve been. But she hadn’t lost Bellamy—not really. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but it was better than nothing.

Bellamy and Echo dated for almost two years, and Clarke had her fair share of relationships in that span of time too. By the time they were both single again, Clarke had almost completely sealed off the part of her heart that had broken in the airport. The small part she had left out in the open, was the part that was coming back to rear its ugly head now. The part that wondered if maybe things would’ve gone differently if she had come back a month sooner—if she had had the chance to tell him the truth.

***

The house smelt faintly of cinnamon, the inside lit up with thousands of string lights. Clearly, Shaw and Murphy had gone a little crazy with the second Christmas thing. In the middle of the living room sat a 15-foot tall tree, stacked high with perfectly wrapped presents.

“Griffin-Blakes and the just Blakes!” Maya said brightly, springing up from her armchair with a clipboard in hand.

“Camp counselor Maya is in full form,” Bellamy bent down to whisper in Clarke’s ear, smiling to himself when she snorted.

“I have Madi in the girls’ room and Jordan with the older boys,” she continued, bending down to talk to the younger kids, who immediately scurried off to claim their bunk beds. “There is a little snag with the fact that Charlotte probably doesn’t want to share with a bunch of little girls. If umm—I don’t know if—if Bellamy and Clarke are willing to share a room, then Charlotte can take the room that Clarke usually uses? We can get a sleeping bag or something if the bed is—” Maya stammered, eyes glued to the piece of paper in her hand.

“They fall asleep together on the couch all the time, I think we can all skip over pretending like this is anything new,” Charlotte said flippantly, shooting Clarke a look before following the direction of Maya’s finger without another word.

“Girl’s got spunk,” Octavia said, breaking the tension that was weighing heavily on the room. “Now where can I get my hands on a hot toddy?!”

Drinks served as a welcome distraction and everyone filtered back to the kitchen, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to carry their suitcases to their shared room. It was poetic in a way. Back when they had first started doing this, right after Justin was born, they used to slip out of their rooms to sit together on the back porch with a bottle of whiskey. Those nights were some of Clarke’s favorites, the nip of the cold and the burn of the alcohol, it was where she and Bellamy had really solidified their adult friendship. Something about mountains and Christmas brought out the repressed childhood memories that she had never thought she would tell anyone. It was where she had told Bellamy the truth about her mom, about the way her dad died. It only felt fitting that they were standing here now, awkwardly staring at the bed they were supposed to share.

“We’ve slept in the same bed before, no biggie, right?” she said carefully, trying to cut some of the tension.

“At least this way we don’t have to sneak off to the back porch just to talk,” he agreed casually, dropping his bag and dipping into the bathroom.

Bellamy stared at himself in the mirror, raking his hands through his hair. This was not good. In fact, this was probably really bad. Under normal circumstances, he would be able to share a bed with Clarke without an issue. They had done it before, but his brain was already on hyperdrive. Every hair tuck and laugh were making his pulse race, he had caught himself staring at her while she took out the garbage last week. He was officially fucked. Avoiding casual touches hadn’t worked at all, if anything it had made him hyperaware of every time Clarke put a hand on his chest or around his bicep. When she had kissed his forehead a few weeks ago, his heart was beating so loudly he was sure it was audible.

It was embarrassing really, he was a grown-ass adult and he was freaking out about the prospect of literally going to sleep in the same bed as a girl. Except this wasn’t any girl, it was Clarke and he was totally, completely fucked—and not in a good way.

***

“So, the whole sharing a bed song and dance was a show, right?” Murphy asked, pushing his goggles upon his forehead.

Bellamy readjusted his boot on his snowboard, wincing when he felt a lump of snowfall from his pants into his sock. Despite the cold sting, it gave him a minute of distraction from Murphy’s probing stare. “For the last time, Clarke and I aren’t secretly dating,” he huffed, shaking the snow from his hair.

“I can’t get over how supremely stupid this whole thing is. You cannot pretend like you don’t know—” Murphy said indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. Before he could finish, Lincoln came skidding to a stop beside them, spraying Murphy with a healthy amount of snow.

“Leave him alone Murph,” Lincoln scolded, giving Bellamy a sympathetic smile.

“Emori said the girls are about to do their annual bikini ski…so you can take your not-crush on Clarke and come watch with us or you can sit here and miss out on that,” Murphy shrugged, unclipping his boots and walking back to the lift.

Bellamy’s cheeks burned, but he silently followed Murphy and Lincoln back up the hill. They arrived just in time to see Clarke, Emori, Raven, and Octavia unzip their jackets to pose for a picture. Maya clicked away, a touch too conservative to participate herself, but enthusiastic all the same.

Clarke’s bikini was fire engine red, two barely-there triangles covering her boobs. Bellamy’s willpower was only so strong, already beaten down by the months of prolonged contact. He snuck more than a few glances, raking his eyes in a way that he would probably have punched another guy for. Thankfully, Clarke didn’t seem to notice, too busy pretending to be pouty for the camera.

“Platonic life partners, my ass,” Murphy muttered, pushing past him to tackle his wife in a hug.

Bellamy snuck another sideways glance at Clarke, unable to contain a blip of jealousy at the casual affection everyone else seemed to be trading. He desperately wished he could go over there and wrap his arms around her, warming her chilled skin. In another life, he could’ve kissed her cold nose, teased her about her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her bathing suit. Instead, he settled for placing a hand on her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs against the sharp curve of her bones.

Clarke shivered under his touch, reveling in the way the heat of his palms seeped into her skin. Her and Bellamy had been a package deal for a long time, but these trips always brought out something extra. Clarke wasn’t usually one to enjoy being taken care of, in fact, she actively hated it. But she hated the cold more, her body didn’t take well to it, always pricking with goosebumps and sending shivers down her spine. Bellamy was an eternal furnace and whenever they were outside, he took it upon himself to press his hands into her skin. It made her feel safe like someone was looking out for her and it was nice to have a break from the chill.

“They’re going to leave without you,” Bellamy murmured, giving her arms one last rub and stepping back. Before Clarke could even mourn the loss, Raven was pulling her elbow, gliding her skis back toward the other women.

Bellamy pointedly ignored Murphy’s stare as he slipped on his goggles and pushed off the hill, following Lincoln to the meeting point. The air felt sharp against his cheeks, pulling away from the heat that had built from earlier. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he had had a crush on Clarke since the first week they met. He had been decently good at hiding it since she had made it clear that she wasn't interested back, but it was becoming harder to suppress lately.

The last time it had been this bad was when she had broken up with Lexa, back when he had stayed up all night before she left trying to figure out how he was going to tell her the truth. He had stayed up so late he had overslept and almost made them miss their fight, leaving him no time for his revelation. He lost his nerve, taking it as a sign that it wasn’t meant to be. Echo had come along not too long after that and he had never gotten the courage to try again.

“Hey look, we can see the kids from here,” Lincoln said, shaking Bellamy out of his thoughts as he pointed toward the area where the ski school was passing by. From where they were standing, he could see Jordan slipping forward as his legs scrambled back and forth, holding desperately onto a rope. Skiing was obviously not his strong suit, but he seemed to be taking it in stride. Madi was more snowsuit than a person, giggling happily while an instructor pulled her around on a round sled. Despite their red noses and heavy jackets, they were having a good time. The kids had taken them both under their wing, it was kind of incredible to see how much they had bonded in less than a day.

“Is it terrible that despite everything, I can’t get over how cute they are,” Clarke said quietly, linking her arm with his while they watched Madi and Jordan play.

“I think that’s the reason why they’re so cute, it’s to keep us from throwing them out the window,” Bellamy chuckled, eyes still fixed on Jordan’s clumsy attempt to keep himself upright but also hyperaware of how close Clarke was to him right now.

“Oof, that did not look good,” Clarke winced when he finally smacked face-first into the snow.

“Shit he’s not standing up.”

They both looked at each other, holding their breaths. It had become clear that crowding him every time he fell just made it worse, they had to be sure it was serious before they jumped.

“Oh shit, his nose is bleeding,” Bellamy groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face and moving toward the kids group. He had momentarily forgotten that he had a snowboard still attached to his feet and before he knew it, he too fell face-first into the snow.

Clarke barked out a laugh, letting herself chuckle for a minute before reaching down to help him up. “You and Jordan are truly two peas in a pod.”

***

“Woah, Woah, Woah,” Clarke laughed, taking the syrup bottle from Madi before she soaked her entire stack of pancakes. This was one of their longstanding traditions, tracing all the way back to their sad Charlie Brown Christmas trees in college. Every Christmas Eve, Bellamy and Murphy would make pancakes. Not just any pancakes, every flavor of pancakes imaginable. Madi hadn’t been able to decide which one she wanted so she had taken one of each and piled them on top of each other, it was likely that the combination would taste terrible, but she seemed happy enough about it despite the lack of Oreo.

“Stop micromanaging her pancakes and come here,” Bellamy whispered, resting his chin against her shoulder for just a second, pulling her away from the table. “Everyone else is doing their presents.”

“I kind of forgot that we’re a part of this now, usually we just sit back and watch,” Clarke said excitedly, eyes lighting up as she unzipped the duffel bag full of presents.

“It’s kind of awesome isn’t it?” he smiled, taking a small wrapped box from her and tucking it under his arm.

Clarke nodded, leaving the Santa presents in the duffel bag as she followed Bellamy back to the living room. The pile of presents under the tree was enormous, Clarke had been worried they had gone overboard but clearly, filling an entire suitcase with presents had been the right choice.

“Is it really true that Santa comes here?” Jordan screamed excitedly, running from the kitchen so quickly that his socks skid against the shiny wooden floors. “Justin said that he’s going to be able to find us because the cabin is magic!”

“Yeah buddy, we’re going to leave cookies out for Santa and he’s going to bring you lots of presents since you’ve been so good this year,” Bellamy grinned, scooping Jordan up and holding him sandwiched between his and Clarke’s bodies.

Clarke nodded, rubbing Jordan’s back while he looked excitedly between them and the Christmas tree.

“You’re the best mom and dad ever! I love you,” Jordan cheered, throwing an arm around each of their necks and pulling them into a tight group hug.

Bellamy’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he registered Jordan’s words. Being called dad was possibly the best sound on earth. He had been worried it was never going to happen, they had settled into being called by their first names. But this moment made every bloody nose and scraped knee worth it. He could feel his eyes welling with tears as he stole a glance at Clarke. She was looking down at Jordan with a painful amount of affection, the tracks of tears already shiny against her cheeks.

“We love you too,” Clarke said, squeezing onto Bellamy and Jordan a little bit tighter.

“So, so much,” he finished, pressing a kiss to the top of his dark curls.

He was sure there would never be another moment as perfect as this hug, framed by the glimmering white lights on the tree.

“You’re squishing me,” Jordan whined, wiggling until he slid out of the hug and running back toward the kitchen. His face was still framed with a wide, gap-toothed smile and he was seemingly unaware of how much he had affected them.

“He called us mom and dad,” Clarke murmured, voice cracking a little as she turned to hug him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, funneling all the emotions he had been feeling for the past month into it. All the times this had been terrible and painful, this moment made it worth it. This moment with Clarke made it especially worth it.

Gently he pulled back, rubbing his thumb along her temple softly. The warm glow of the light reflected off her eyes, making them sparkle. It was almost too much, Bellamy felt like he was drunk on happiness.

Clarke gave him a small, private smile, opening her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by a herd of screaming kids all holding platefuls of cookies.

“Alright, Rugrats set your cookies out and settle in. We’re doing a story and then bedtime, Santa can’t come if all of you are awake,” Raven teased, waving around _The Night Before Christmas_ while the kids squished together near the Christmas tree. There were so many of them, it was almost enough to fill a classroom.

The fire crackled in the background as Raven began, her voice taking on a soft lilting tone as she read.

_“’ Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring…not even a mouse.”_

Madi crawled out from where she was sitting between Claire and Elijah to come to sit in Bellamy’s lap, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as she snuggled into him. Bellamy gently stroked her hair, running his pinky finger through her fine curls. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t take anymore, today kept getting better.

Even Charlotte couldn’t resist the draw of the cozy story, emerging from her hiding place in her room to lean against a banister. Her eyes were fixed on Jordan and Madi,

There was an odd sense of loss as the story wound down and all the kids were shepherded to bed. The next hour was consumed by goodnight kisses and hugs, trips to the bathroom and burrito tuck-ins. It was doubtful they would actually sleep, all of them buzzing with excitement over the prospect of Santa.

The evening had been so busy, filled with so many emotions, that Bellamy had forgotten completely about having to share a room with Clarke. But he pushed the rush of nerves away as he flopped on the bed beside her, they had too much to celebrate for him to get wrapped up in his stupid crush tonight.

“I know we’ve had them for a while but—” she said carefully, tilting her head on the pillow so she could see him fully.

“It feels like something’s different now,” he finished.

“Like they want us back.”

“Like this could actually work.”

They laid next to each other in silence, hands barely brushing as they stared at the ceiling. Jordan calling them mom and dad was huge, it was the kind of progress they had only dreamed of making a few months ago. This whole thing had been so different from what Bellamy had been expecting. So much harder but also so much more rewarding—and so much more confusing.

This was dangerous. Not because of his stupid impulse to kiss Clarke, but because this felt right. This felt like how things were always supposed to be. He could get used to this, it was going to suck to go home and go back to their separate bedrooms. He wanted this, wanted to be able to put their kids to bed and just exist together. It was part of why he had been letting himself fall asleep on the couch so much. Even if it did a number on his back, at least he got to fall asleep with Clarke’s feet pressed against his thigh.

“You can’t fall asleep, this is the best part,” Raven called, peeking her head in the door and rolling her eyes at the way that their hands were almost brushing. “Bring your Santa gifts.”

***

Clarke was a comfortable level of buzzed by the time the adult Christmas eve wrapped up. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face while she got waters for herself and Bellamy. It felt like they had reached a new level with their friends, writing Santa notes with their left hands and taking bites out of cookies. It was nice. Definitely different than playing drinking games and strip poker but a good different.

Charlotte jumped when she saw Bellamy and Clarke standing in the living room, clearly surprised by the fact that they were still awake. She had obviously been waiting to sneak around the house after everyone had gone to bed.

“You know, Santa doesn’t come if you don’t go to bed,” Bellamy teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hilarious,” Charlotte scoffed, rolling her eyes at them as she continued to the kitchen.

Clarke stood, gesturing for Bellamy to follow as she walked behind Charlotte. Bellamy furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what exactly Clarke was trying to do while he leaned against the counter.

“Can we show you something?” Clarke asked, grabbing the still steaming pot of coffee from earlier along with three mugs as she jerked her thumb toward the backdoor.

Charlotte didn’t react, walking silently behind Clarke outside. Bellamy swept up a few blankets from the living room, carrying them outside to where they were already settled on the couch. Gently, he draped a blanket over Charlotte’s lap before tucking himself beside Clarke and covering them both under a shared one. Clarke’s feet immediately pressed against his thigh and Bellamy covered them with his hand, warming her toes.

“Let me guess, this is supposed to be some sappy heart to heart about how much you care about me?”

“I mean…kind of,” Clarke admitted, laughing a little as she poured out mugs of coffee.

“My mom’s coming back for me soon, I know things are complicated now because Jordan likes you but you don’t have to try so hard anymore.”

“Charlotte, you know that even if you go back to live with your mom, we’re not going to stop caring about you,” Bellamy said carefully, heartbreaking a little at the way she had balled herself up.

“God, why are you trying so hard? I don’t get it, just leave me alone.”

“Because we can see that you’re a smart girl and a good person, we just want to be there for you. You deserve to have as many people in your corner as possible,” Bellamy continued.

“We’re not your parents, we get that you don’t want us to be, but we do love you,” Clarke agreed, trying to convey all the emotions she was feeling into one look.

Charlotte’s eyes were rimmed with tears as she quickly shifted her gaze toward the blanket in her lap. She played with the fringe, taking deep slow breaths. Clarke wanted to move to hug her, but resisted the urge, they had to respect her boundaries.

“I don’t hate you—and I’m not trying to make things—” she began, voice catching again.

“We know that. It’s been an adjustment for all of us, we just want you to know that no matter how angry you get at us, we aren’t going anywhere,” Bellamy assured, nervously rubbing his thumb against the side of Clarke’s foot.

There was another long pause as Charlotte took a few more deep breaths. “My mom’s not a bad person, I know you probably think that she is but she’s really trying to get me back.”

“We don’t think your mom is a bad person. Bellamy and I understand better than anyone that parents are complicated. My mom struggled with drugs later in life, I know it makes things difficult, but addiction is an illness. Just because someone is struggling doesn’t mean they don’t deserve love.”

“She’s been clean for two weeks now,” Charlotte smiled softly, the hard edges of her exterior cracking slightly.

“That’s a huge accomplishment,” Clarke agreed, returning Charlotte’s smile and taking a long sip of coffee.

“I told her a bit about you guys that last time I talked to her. Mainly that you’re goofy as hell and not funny as you think you are. I left out the weird part about you guys being—I think Octavia called it, platonic life partners.”

“We appreciate your discretion,” Bellamy chuckled, raising his eyebrow at the teasing.

“How did you guys meet anyway?” Charlotte asked, leaning back in the armchair, clearly more relaxed than she had been only minutes before.

“College, we were separately walking down the same hallway when Jasper came flying out of a lab with his hair on fire. We both just jumped into action to put it out. The rest is history,” Bellamy explained, running a hand through his hair as he thought back.

“We’ve been inseparable ever since,” Clarke finished, smiling softly as she tipped her head to look at Bellamy.

“Well except for the six months that Clarke and O spent running around in Italy.”

“Uhh—yeah, I forgot about that,” Clarke stuttered, thrown off guard by the addition. She tried to cover up her blush and thankfully Bellamy didn’t seem to notice, but Charlotte definitely did.

They sat in companionable silence for a beat, all staring out at the snow-covered mountain. It was so silent, so still. They hadn’t had this kind of moment with Charlotte yet. Usually, their positive interactions turned south quickly.

“I should go to bed, Santa can’t come if I’m still awake and Jordan will never forgive me if he skips us,” Charlotte said finally, giving them both a small smile as she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and slipped back into the house.

It wasn’t much, but it was definitely progress.

“I can’t believe you undersold our origin story to her,” Clarke scoffed, stretching out so her back was pressed against the arm of the couch while her feet remained in Bellamy’s lap.

“How was I supposed to tell her that you literally tried to murder me within a month of us knowing each other?!”

“I undercook chicken one time and suddenly I’m a murderer. You’re so dramatic,” Clarke rolled her eyes, wigging her foot playfully in his grip.

“We figured it out eventually, I thought I would just skip over the ugly parts and let her continue to think we’re characters in a Netflix movie.”

“I mean you skipped over a few good parts too.”

“How could I forget the time we found a snoopy snow cone machine at a yard sale and ate so many snow cones that I froze off my tastebuds and you were sneezing blue raspberry for a week. That’s the kind of content that’ll make Charlotte love us,” he chuckled, tipping his head back to rest against the couch so he could meet her gaze.

“Or the time we were Lonely Island for Halloween and literally nobody got the joke except for us so you kept telling people we were Russian mobsters—”

“And then that Russian guy got super offended and decked me!”

“Which drunk me did not like at all, so I smashed a long island iced tea over his head.”

“And the bouncer literally carried you out of the bar kicking and screaming,” Bellamy finished voice catching on the laugh as he thought back to that night. Despite the scar he still had over his lip from the hit, it was one of his favorite memories. After they had gotten kicked out of the bar, they had stumbled over to the Subway and competed to see who could make the most ridiculous footlong sub. It had been so much food that they had both given half their sandwiches to homeless guys but stumbling around and eating sandwiches while talking aimlessly about nothing, was the most fun he had had in college.

Clarke examined Bellamy from her spot on the couch, so many of her favorite memories were tied to this man. All the times she had laughed until she was crying or hard felt so happy that her face could’ve split in half.

Sitting out on the back porch, staring out as the snow fell gently onto the mountain and blanketed the ground with a fresh, clean layer, Clarke realized she had never loved someone the way she loved Bellamy. She probably never would. There had been a lot of romantic love in her life, but nothing like this. Bellamy was more than that, he was her person. The person who could make anything better, even the most shitty situation. She loved him, and that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. Raising kids together now, her love for him had transformed, made it stronger, harder to ignore.

Honestly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to ignore it anymore.

***

Despite their late-night, Santa definitely came, and he definitely delivered.

“Santa is the best!” Madi screamed, hugging a comically large stuffed dog against her chest and running around in a circle.

More quietly, Jordan sat by the couch, running a finger up and down the spine of a leather-bound fantasy book. It had taken them a few hours online to find the right one, but a shiny new copy of The Hobbit was the perfect Santa gift.

“Can I come to your room so we can read it tonight?” Jordan asked, turning to push the book into Clarke’s lap.

“It’ll be our special time together,” Clarke smiled, running a finger down his cheek. “There’s a lot of other presents for you under the tree too,” she probed, pointing toward the stack of silver and blue wrapped gifts.

“Can you hold this for me?” Jordan asked, eyes flicking nervously between the book and his other presents.

“I won’t let it out of my sight,” she assured, nodding seriously as Jordan turned and ran back toward the other kids.

“We did good,” Bellamy said warmly, bringing his arm around Clarke’s shoulders and squeezing her tightly.

“Even Charlotte seems happy,” Clarke agreed, leaning her head on Bellamy’s shoulder and pointing to where she was examining the pile of sweaters and new soccer cleats they had gotten her.

“I love my new doggy and my new dress and my cookie cutter and my new sparkly shoes and my Hatchimal!” Madi exclaimed, flying toward Bellamy’s legs and talking so fast that her words blurred together. “This is the best Christmas ever!!” she continued, pressing a kiss to Bellamy’s knee and then Clarke’s before running away again.

“Merry Christmas mom and dad,” Murphy teased, pressing a mug of coffee into each of their hands.

“Fu—frick, Murphy is this spiked?!” Bellamy winced, scrunching his nose as he swallowed.

“It’s a holiday,” he said with a shrug, winking as he turned to listen to whatever Christopher was saying.

“It’s kind of comforting that some things never change,” Clarke giggled, chugging half of her mug in one go.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of cinnamon rolls, screaming kids and fighting over toys. True to her promise, Clarke kept Jordan’s copy of The Hobbit tucked away in their room, safe from grabbing hands and sticky fingers.

She forgot about it in the chaos of Christmas lunch and trying to keep the kids from arguing over toys. At one point, they had to mark Elijah and Elise’s Star Wars action figures with a marker so they would stop stealing each other’s, Kylo Ren. Madi had also demanded that Bellamy cut all the meat of her lambchop off the bone and then had knocked the entire plate onto the floor by the time he finished.

It was safe to say that by the time they tucked Madi into bed and crawled into their own, Clarke was exhausted. Not even bothering to restrain herself, she pressed her face into Bellamy’s arm, the excitement and Irish cream catching up to her. He stroked her hair, twirling the strands around his fingers. It felt good and right, her revelation from earlier ringing in her ears, screaming for her to just open her mouth and tell him the truth.

“Can we read my book now?” Jordan asked quietly, knocking against the wooden frame of the door.

“Of course baby,” Clarke grinned, keeping one arm wrapped around Bellamy and holding the other one out for Jordan to tuck himself under.

Not wanting to jostle either of them, Bellamy carefully reached out for the book, straightening his glasses as he propped it against his chest.

He was just about to crack the spine when there was another creak in the doorway, and they turned to see Madi peeking at them from behind the heavy white door. Her hair was mussed, and she had her new stuffed dog tucked under her arm.

“It’s loud, Louise and Elise screamin’,” Madi mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“You can join our special time,” Jordan piped in, waving for Madi to join them on the bed.

Madi clambered on the bed, struggling a little to keep her dog in her grasp while she climbed. She settled directly on top of Bellamy’s chest, tucking her dog under his arm and releasing it in favor of grasping a handful of his shirt.

Clarke giggled as he struggled to balance the book without crushing Madi, taking it from him to prop against her stomach. Bellamy usually read, but it was a nice change of pace for Clarke to try to do the voices. It was harder than it looked, her Hobbit accent turned into something that sounded both Irish and vaguely Japanese, but Jordan and Madi didn’t seem to mind.

The story was sweet and soothing, still interesting but uncomplicated enough to lull both kids to sleep. By the time she wrapped up the second chapter, both Jordan and Madi were sound asleep. At some point, while she had been reading, they had all drifted to the middle of the bed. Madi still lay splayed across Bellamy’s chest, her head pillowed right over his heart. Clarke lay tucked under his arm, just close enough to press a kiss to Madi’s nose as she leaned into his shoulder. Jordan’s head was resting on Clarke’s stomach, her hand tangled in his dark mop of curls.

“Goodnight Clarke,” Bellamy whispered, taking the book from Clarke and placing it with his glasses on the bedside table. His movements were slow, careful not to jostle Madi and Clarke kept her place against his side, their bodies never fully separating.

“Goodnight,” Clarke murmured, the weight of sleep already weighing down her eyelids. It was just so cozy, she felt completely content snuggled up like this, the strong sturdiness of Bellamy against her and the soft tangle of Jordan’s curls under her fingers.

Bellamy leaned over one last time to click off the lights and pressed one last kiss against Clarke’s temple before he succumbed to sleep, letting his lips rest against the side of her head.


	7. The Airport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Kids by Ben Rector. 
> 
> Special thanks to Toomuchtroubletbh (ObviesBellarke) for her feedback on this one :)

Clarke stepped out of the airport bathroom, rubbing her hands on the front of her jeans and trying to expel the remaining coat of water between her fingers. She knew hand dryers were better for the environment, but why did they have to be so Goddamn inefficient.

“You know Bellamy stood up to push your hair off your face while you were sleeping on the plane?” Charlotte asked, falling in step beside Clarke as they made their way to meet the others at the baggage claim.

“Why are you still on this?” Clarke huffed, internally preening at the information but trying to maintain her cool. If she wavered even a little bit, Charlotte would notice. Part of her was dying to tell someone about what had been bouncing in her head since the night on the porch, but her fifteen-year-old foster daughter was probably not the right audience.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte shrugged, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder casually. “I just think it’s dumb that your soulmate is literally right in front of you and you’re too scared to do anything about it.”

Charlotte’s words stuck Clarke like a truck, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had a point.

“I think you care about us,” Clarke said slyly, throwing an arm around Charlotte and squeezing her tightly.

Charlotte didn’t fight it, instead squeezing Clarke back before wiggling slowly out of her grip. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she shook her head, shoving her earbuds in and stepping on the escalator.

There wasn’t enough room on the step for both of them and Clarke didn’t feel like pushing her luck, keeping a few spaces of distance. Things had been better since Christmas 2.0, Charlotte seemed to no longer be trying to actively antagonize them. It had been a nice change to see her real personality shine through, it finally felt like they were getting to know her. The friendliness came with an added level of obtrusive probing into her and Bellamy’s (lack of) love life but she could live with that.

They neared the bottom of the escalator and she caught sight of Bellamy. He had Jordan wrapped around one leg and Madi around the other as they stood waiting for their suitcases to come down the belt. Her heart ticked at the sight of him, hair mussed, shirt crinkled but just as handsome as he had been the day she met him.

Somehow, as if he sensed them coming, he turned as they stepped off and flashed a wide smile. Clarke’s heart jumped to her throat as a wave of De-ja-vu hit her. But this was so much better than the last time. This time there was no other girl in sight, and Bellamy was waiting for her—with their kids wrapped around his legs. That smile was just for her.

The bags started dropping from the chute, causing Madi and Jordan to shoot up with excitement to go look for their bags. Charlotte followed closely behind, shouting a warning about keeping their fingers out of the belt. For once, Clarke let her handle it.

She didn’t even bother resisting the urge to drop her backpack and wrap Bellamy in a forceful hug. It caught him off guard, his hands hovering in the air for a moment as he registered the motion. After a beat, he hugged her back tightly, lifting her feet off the floor and pressing his nose into her hair. Clarke buried her face in Bellamy’s shoulder, breathing him in. She sunk into the moment, painting over the old sour memory with this new happy one. The weight that had been sitting on her heart since that fateful trip to Italy, dropped out of existence—in its place was a new, much warmer feeling, one that Clarke wanted to live inside of forever.

“Are you gonna kiss?” Jordan piped in, sitting on the floor beside Bellamy’s legs.

With a chuckle, Bellamy set Clarke back down on the ground and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. They held eye contact for a beat, the weight of it sitting heavily between them. Bellamy couldn’t deny there had been something different about that hug. It felt both familiar and brand new—he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it felt significant. It had been enough that the thought of kissing Clarke had crossed his mind. The nose had been a cop-out, and the second after he did it, he immediately regretted it.

“On her nose?! You guys are weird. That’s gross,” Jordan rolled his eyes, flopping down on the floor. Bellamy winced, partly because the floor was filthy and partly because a seven-year-old just called him out on his shit. With a sigh, he disentangled himself from Clarke so she could scoop Jordan off the ground. In the background, he could see Madi jumping up and down and waving that their suitcases were coming.

Throwing one last glance at Clarke, he went to go keep Madi from climbing onto the belt. Her excitement was growing, and it was only a matter of seconds before she launched herself on top of a bag.

Bellamy’s limbs were still tingling from the hug as he pulled Madi off the ledge, keeping her propped against his hip as he hauled her Paw Patrol suitcase off the belt along with all the others.

Madi immediately climbed on top of the largest one, riding it like a horse as they all made their way to the car.

The exhaustion from the flight coupled with the eventful weekend and Clarke’s soft country music, was enough to lull all three kids to sleep in the backseat.

The hug still in the back of his mind, Bellamy reached across the car to take Clarke’s hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb against her pulse point. She had a small tattoo there, the words “love, dad” etched into her skin in her father’s handwriting. Bellamy didn’t even have to look to know where it was, he had seen it a million times before. He rubbed his finger against the word “love”, it had been bouncing in his head all weekend. The airport had brought him back to when he had dropped Clarke off all those years ago, the day he had tried to tell her the truth. As much as he wished things had worked out back then, it had led them to where they are now. Despite how difficult the past months had been, it felt like this was exactly where they were supposed to be.

It had been a long time since he had considered telling her again, but the urge was stronger than ever. Clarke was a lot of things to Bellamy, his business partner, best friend, the mother to the children they were raising and the more he thought about it, the more it became clear she was the love of his life. She always had been—he had just been too afraid of it to admit it. Whether or not she loved him back was a different situation entirely. Bellamy had always known he loved Clarke, but what always him back was the fact that he couldn’t tell whether she felt the same way.

The silence was deafening, the only noise Clarke could hear was the thud of her pulse in her ears as she kept her eyes trained on the road even though she wasn’t driving. If she looked at Bellamy right now, she wasn’t sure what she would do. His finger was tracing her tattoo, the feel of it sending a wave of heat through her veins and directly to her heart.

Just as she was about to say something, the house came into view in the distance, headlights illuminating the white exterior. Her nerve slipped away as the crunch of gravel filled the car, bringing them back to the reality of their everyday lives.

“They look so peaceful,” Bellamy whispered, taking a peek at the kids through the rearview mirror.

“I’ll take Charlotte if you take the little ones,” Clarke sighed, softening at the sight of Charlotte looking totally relaxed. She looked her age for once, impossibly young for the kind of weight she normally carried.

Bellamy nodded, rounding the car to effortless haul Madi and Jordan against his sides. It was an impressive feat and he did it without any strain, pressing a kiss to both of their temples as he moved toward the door.

Clarke watched them as they disappeared inside, the lights flicking on and waking the house back to life.

“Hey, sweetie. We’re back,” she whispered, gently smoothing Charlotte’s hair back. Clarke ran her hands through her hair for a bit longer, enjoying the softness of the moment.

Charlotte stirred, eyes fluttering as she groaned and tried to turn over in her seat. It was clear she had pushed into the territory of deliriously tired.

“Don’t wanna, just leave me here,” she moaned, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Come on, I’ll hold you up okay?” Clarke said gently, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching out to help her up. Charlotte tucked herself into Clarke’s side, obviously half asleep because it was something she never would have done otherwise.

Clarke took the moment for what it was, pulling her close and rubbing a hand up and down her arm while they walked inside. With the surly way she acted and the sharpness of her tone, it was easy to forget that Charlotte was barely a teenager. Her shoulders were narrow and her cheeks were chubby, it made Clarke’s heart ached a little at the circumstances that had made her so hard.

They climbed the stairs slowly, Charlotte still groggy with sleep. She sat heavily on her bed and Clarke bent down to untie her boots, easing them off her feet carefully. It wasn’t lost on Clarke that this was the first time that Charlotte had let her take care of her. With her socks and shoes off, Clarke arranged the pillows and tucked Charlotte under the covers. She smoothed her hair back again, pushing it off her shoulder and behind her ear. With a final goodnight, she pressed a gentle kiss to Charlotte’s hairline and stepped out of the room, just in time to meet Bellamy in the middle of the hallway.

“I—” Bellamy began, stepping forward to cup Clarke’s elbow. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but the air between them was electric and he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to go to bed separately, not after the weekend they had just had. But before he could even begin, Madi came toddling out of her room. Her hair was sticking straight up, and her arms were wrapped around her middle. It looked like she had been crying quietly.

“What’s wrong Mads,” Clarke asked as they both knelt forward to meet her eyes. Bellamy reached out to smooth her hair, tucking it gently behind her ears.

“Mommy, I feel yucky,” Madi whined, eyes widening before she bent forward and threw up her entire dinner all over Bellamy and Clarke.

They both froze as the thick layer of vomit seeping into their clothes and hair. Bellamy wiped a fleck of something he didn’t want to consider off his cheek, the courage that he had had only minutes before falling to the wayside as they sprung into action.

Madi was sobbing and without thinking, he whipped off his shirt and then bent forward to soothe her. Clarke did the same, reaching out to remove Madi’s ruined pajamas.

They were in for a long night.

Bellamy and Clarke did end up sleeping in the same bed. That bed was Madi’s twin-sized princess bed, with her sandwiched in the middle. They woke up periodically, Clarke forcing a bottle of Pedialyte down her throat while Bellamy held an old bucket for her to throw up in.

After what seemed like hours of throwing up and running back and forth to the bathroom, whatever was causing Madi’s distress finally subsided. Sunlight started filtering through the blinds of the bathroom window, officially indicating that they had been up for too long. Madi was curled up on the furry white bathroom rug. It was really a testament to how exhausted she was, that Clarke didn’t even care that it was probably full of germs. They were both shirtless, still wearing the remnants of their plane clothes and Bellamy’s eyes were rimmed with a faint purple. Clarke was sure that she looked no better…there were definitely pieces of vomit in her hair.

They must’ve fallen asleep at some point because the next thing Bellamy knew his face was pressed against the hard tile of the floor. He had never thought when he installed these red and white hexagons that he would spend so much time up close and personal with them. Clarke was sprawled beside him, face pillowed on the curve of his shoulder. Last night had not gone at all as he had envisioned. In the past, he would’ve taken it as a sign to drop his confession, but he was slowly becoming convinced that half the reason it had taken this long to get anywhere was that he kept waiting for a perfect time that would never come.

“Are they dead?” Jordan whispered loudly, voice bouncing off the tiles and echoing around the room.

Suddenly, Bellamy felt a poke against his butt, presumably a foot and he nudged Clarke. They both sat up sleepily, their skin sticking together from where Bellamy’s back had fused to Clarke’s side. He blinked harshly, eyes stinging as Charlotte turned the bright overhead lights on.

“You guys are taking weird to a whole new level,” Charlotte said with an amused smirk, leaning against the door frame with her arms cross.

“We were—” Clarke began groggily, smearing old mascara around her eyes as she sat up. She pointed to the empty rug where Madi had been lying, springing to action when she realized that Madi was no longer there. “Where’s Madi?!”

“She’s in her bed? I literally just saw her,” Charlotte answered, brow lifting with mild concern as she took in Clarke and Bellamy’s disheveled appearance.

“She was sick all night,” Bellamy explained, carefully standing up and rubbing a hand against Clarke’s back to soothe her. He desperately wanted to run a hand through his hair, but he knew there was a mixture of sweat and vomit in there that he didn’t want to touch.

Charlotte softened, mouth tilting into a half-smile. “Lemme watch her for a while, you both look awful. No offense.”

“You’re kind of stinky too,” Jordan added helpfully from his place in the doorway.

Clarke and Bellamy shared a look, chuckling as they turned to look at themselves in the mirror. Charlotte had a point; they did look like shit. Despite her stained sports bra, vomit-covered hair and sore back, Clarke couldn’t help but be proud of what a good team they had been last night. It had been gross and awful, but she was glad to have had Bellamy by her side.

***

Madi had been recovering slowly from the virus she had gotten during their trip. A quick call to Octavia the next day had confirmed that more than a few of the kids had been hit with similar symptoms, it was kind of inevitable with that many young kids in such a small space.

They had been taking it easy for the past few days, just hanging around the house and watching movies.

Clarke laid on the couch with Madi draped across her chest, gently rubbing her back and listening as Bellamy and Jordan roughhoused upstairs. They had watched a cartoon about the Trojan horse last night and now Jordan was obsessed with the idea of pretending to be disguised as a horse and “surprising” Bellamy of Troy with an invasion. The whole thing was adorable, complete with paper towel roll swords and a pillowcase toga. Bellamy was living for it too, he loved having someone to share all his little history facts with. Honestly, Clarke wasn’t sure who was enjoying the whole thing more, Bellamy or Jordan.

“The destruction of Troy is upon us!” Bellamy yelled as he and Jordan thudded down the stairs. They clacked their cardboard swords together once they reached the living room, Jordan’s costume now had the addition of a leaf crown that Bellamy made from paper.

“Death to the king,” Jordan screamed, shoving his sword into Bellamy’s leg. Bellamy, in turn, screamed in fake pain, collapsing to the ground dramatically.

Jordan giggled while Bellamy faked a theatrical death, rolling around on the rug and coughing.

Clarke and Madi cheered as Jordan helped Bellamy up, both of them collapsing on the couch beside them.

“Should we do homemade pizzas for dinner?” Bellamy asked, wrapping his arm around Jordan so he could ruffle his hair.

“Pizza!!” Madi yelled, sitting up from where she was laying on top of Clarke so she could jump down and run around the coffee table.

“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” Clarke chuckled, sitting up so she could give Jordan a hug too.

“Can we watch squeakies?!” Madi asked, finally seeming to tire from her laps around the room and collapsing into Bellamy’s legs.

Bellamy tried to suppress a groan, squeakies was what Madi called The Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. It was horrifically bad to sit through, the voices grating—exacerbated by the singing. It was by far the worst movie either of the kids liked—possibly the worst kids movie in history—neither Bellamy nor Clarke had ever managed to make it through the whole thing.

With a heavy sigh, Clarke queued it up on the TV and immediately gestured for Bellamy to follow her into the kitchen the second the credits started rolling.

“I will seriously stab myself if I have to listen to a rodent sing Jason Derulo ever again,” she sighed, opening the fridge to take out ingredients for the pizzas.

“Have you heard them sing ‘FunkyTown’? It’s enough to make you wish bodily harm onto whoever decided to make that damn movie,” Bellamy agreed, pulling out a mixing bowl to start forming the dough.

They delved into a conversation about which kids' movies were the most irritating and whether the people who produced them were purposely sadistic. From there it jumped to a conversation about Caillou and annoying cartoon character voices. While they were talking, they tossed discs of pizza dough into the air, laughing as flour clouded around the kitchen.

Clarke laughed, smearing a streak of flour across Bellamy’s cheek. It felt good to goof around like this, especially after the week they had just had. Bellamy grabbed Clarke around the waist, swinging her around to retaliate for the attack. They were both laughing so hard they bent over, hands sliding on the flour-covered counter.

Belatedly, Clarke realized this was what she had imagined this kitchen being designed for. For people to make memories like this in it, to make a mess and laugh till their sides hurt. It had been designed for families. That was what she and Bellamy were, they always had been—but now they were the kind of family that stayed up all night with a sick kid and made pizza crusts because it was their son’s favorite. They were a real mom and dad now, and it felt really good.

She lunged again, dumping a handful of flour down Bellamy’s shirt just as Charlotte appeared in the entrance. Their war had definitely caught her off guard because she seemed frazzled, a drastic switch from her normal swagger.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I talk to you guys for a sec?” Charlotte asked, awkwardly stepping into the kitchen with her backpack still slung on her shoulder.

“Sure, do you want to help us make pizza crusts?” Clarke smiled, trying and failing to wipe the flour off her face.

“It’ll only take a second,” she continued, drawing a circle in the flour on the counter.

“Is something wrong?” Bellamy frowned, voice sharpening as he rounded the counter to stand beside Clarke.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you guys…my mom’s been out of jail and clean for three weeks now which means we qualify for supervised visits. Would it be okay if I went to see her with Anya? If I go Jordan would have to come too and I don’t know how that’s going to go but—”

“Charlotte, when we said we supported your relationship with your mom we meant it. If that’s what you want to do, we’ll help you however we can,” Bellamy assured, reaching out to squeeze her arm.

“Let us handle the Jordan situation, we can talk with Anya about how to prepare him for it,” Clarke agreed, smiling broadly at her.

“Okay cool,” Charlotte stammered, clearly a little thrown off by how easy the whole thing had been. “I’ll come back downstairs for dinner then,” she grinned, flashing them a genuine smile and running back toward the living room.

“We knew this was a possibility when we started doing this, but I was just getting used to the idea of them being our kids,” Bellamy sighed, turning to knead out a crust.

“They’re still ours, we just share them with another person. I’m worried about Jordan though,” she agreed, taking the finished crust and spreading sauce on it.

“I am too, he’s so sensitive.”

“We’ve just got to make sure that we drill it into him that we still love him and that’s never going to stop.”

“Well at least that much is true, I would literally take a bullet for that kid.”

“It’s crazy how fast it happened, isn’t it? One minute they were strangers and the next I’m sitting next to Madi’s bed and checking to see if she’s still breathing,” Clarke agreed, setting down the cheese grater so she could face Bellamy.

“I’m glad we did this together,” Bellamy admitted, reaching out to hold Clarke’s hand, playing with her fingers. Their hands were both still coated in flour and her fingers felt sticky against his, but he kept his hold.

“I can’t imagine having done this any other way,” she smiled softly, looking down at their hands. Technically that wasn’t fully true. She should’ve told him how she felt that night they had sat outside and looked at the stars, it would’ve been the perfect opportunity. They could’ve done this the right way, shared a room, spent every day loving their kids and each other. Or she would’ve known he didn’t love her back and they could’ve cut their losses earlier. Her heart stung at the thought of rejection, if that had happened, they never would’ve had the kids. As much as she hated not knowing, it had to happen this way—if even a single thing had gone differently, their lives wouldn’t be what they are right now. But she was done waiting, her frustration finally outweighing her fear.

***

Bellamy twisted Madi’s hair into a small braid, fastening a small clip on the back of her head. It looked cut, he was a little rusty on the hairstyles but it had come together pretty nicely. When he looked at Madi in the mirror, she was frowning.

“Daddy no,” Madi pouted, planting her hands on her hips and giving Bellamy an angry glare. Without another word, she wiggled off the counter and ran out of the room. “Daddy did it ugly,” she complained, poking the back of Clarke’s leg where she stood in Jordan’s doorway.

Clarke suppressed a laugh, chancing a look at Bellamy as she bent to remove the fake pearl clip and took down the braid from Madi’s hair. He held up his hands, shaking his head as he watched Clarke make a much smaller braid and clip it against the back of her head. It was much simpler than it had been before, but Madi seemed satisfied, smacking a kiss onto Clarke’s cheek and running back toward him.

“I’m ready,” she announced, holding her arms out for him to pick her up.

Bellamy let himself chuckle as he hauled her up. “You’re not ready yet!” he said, tickling her bare side with his free hand.

Clarke gave them one last smile, turning back to Jordan, who was sitting on his bed clutching Oreo and staring at the wall. He was clearly upset but didn’t seem to want to talk about it. She had spent the last hour sitting on the floor beside him in silence, just waiting to see if he would say anything.

“Do I need to pack my stuff?” Jordan whispered; eyes still fixed on the wall.

“Sweetie no, it’s just a visit, Anya is going to bring you back after dinnertime,” Clarke assured, sitting carefully on the bed beside him and placing a hand on his back.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sure your mom—” she began, rubbing slow circles on my back.

“That’s Charlotte’s mom. My momma is in heaven and you’re my mom,” Jordan said firmly, voice almost sharp as he buried his head into Clarke’s side.

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat, she and Bellamy had spent a long time reading and researching how to address the topic of Jordan’s parents. A few weeks ago, they had started talking to him about the dynamics of having two sets of parents. They hadn’t been sure if any of it had stuck but she definitely hadn’t been expecting for him to put it so eloquently. Her heart broke, Jordan was caught in the middle of this mess—Charlotte was thrilled to have her mom back and Madi didn’t qualify for the visit, he was the only one who felt like he was being ripped away from his home.

“I love you so much buddy, we’re going to make this work. You need to go today, but if you don’t feel happy afterward then we’ll talk to Anya about it. Okay?” She said finally, holding Jordan close as he cried and whispering soft assurances to him.

Jordan had seemed deflated since they had explained the visit to him, the confidence he had been working on had completely disappeared. Clarke wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole thing, she loved him like he was her own and desperately wanted to keep him with her, but she knew how to system worked. She had to be strong in front of Jordan, but the idea of packing up a little suitcase and sending him to go live somewhere else was like a knife in her stomach.

“Anya is going to be here any second,” Charlotte said excitedly, popping into the doorway. She looked different than usual, her long blonde hair was curled into pretty waves and she had traded in her usual jeans for a simple, pink sundress. She was smiling broadly, lips painted with a sparkly gloss. Clarke knew the look well, she was hopeful. It was a tough plight, having a parent who fluctuated up and down. Clarke had gone through it with her own mom, the frustrating back and forth of feeling disappointed and betrayed while also hoping desperately that something would change.

For Charlotte’s sake, Clarke hoped it would work out. Abby had never really gotten it together, but maybe her mom would.

“You’re going to have a fun dinner,” she assured, giving Jordan one last squeeze and standing up from the bed.

“Can you carry me downstairs?” he asked, voice small as he held his arms out toward Clarke.

Clarke’s arms burned at the thought, but she hauled him up all the same. He needed the extra reassurance right now, even if it came at the expense of her upper body. Their descent downstairs was slow, the weight of Jordan preventing her from moving with any kind of urgency. By the time they reached the landing, Anya was standing in the doorway with another thick blue folder in her hands.

Jordan held an arm out for Bellamy, wiggling his fingers until he stepped close enough to be pulled into a one-armed hug. He squeezed them both tightly like he was trying to funnel all his anxieties into it.

“We love you so much,” Bellamy murmured, pressing a kiss to Jordan’s head.

“We’re going to be right here waiting for you when you get back,” Clarke agreed, memorizing the feel of this hug. She could see why Jordan was so nervous, Clarke knew this was only going to last a few hours and she still felt like she was losing him forever.

“Can we read The Hobbit when I get back?” Jordan asked quietly, voice muffled against Bellamy’s neck.

“Of course, we can even read an extra chapter.”

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

Bellamy chanced a look at Clarke over the top of Jordan’s head, she shrugged, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

“Sure buddy, just for one night though,” Clarke said finally, giving Jordan one last squeeze. “You’ve gotta go with Anya now though, okay?”

A small whine slipped out of Jordan’s mouth as they both placed him gently on the floor. His bottom lip started to quiver but he seemed to steady himself, giving them one last wave and moving to follow Anya out the door.

Surprisingly, Charlotte turned, wrapping an arm around each of them and pulling them both into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said, giving them both a genuine smile before she turned and jogged toward the van.

“Well, this sucks,” Bellamy sighed, letting out a long breath as they watched the taillights disappear past their fence.

“You can say that again,” Clarke agreed, sitting heavily on the steps of the front porch. “I don’t know if I can go back inside.”

They both sat at the front of their house, staring at the space where the van had been. It was a fittingly gloomy day, a light drizzle misting their faces and filling the sky with muted grey clouds.

“I have an idea,” Bellamy said, flashing her a closed-lipped smile before springing up and disappearing back inside the house.

Clarke watched his disappearing form, there was something stilted about the way he was walking, his shoulders too tight and back a little too straight. Something was off, it was probably the sting of what had just happened. A pang of sadness washed over Clarke as she let herself consider the possibility of Jordan and Charlotte leaving them permanently. They would still have Madi—but things would never be the same.

Before she could spiral into the fear of what was ahead, Bellamy reappeared with Madi on his back. She had changed out of the clothes they had put her in earlier, exchanging her red overalls for mismatched striped leggings and an orange sweater.

“Mommy, I picked it,” she smiled proudly, pulling on her sweater to show Clarke.

“You look very pretty,” Clarke assured, tucking a piece of hair behind Madi’s ear and trying to keep her amusement from showing.

“I tried to talk her out of it,” Bellamy whispered, chuckling at the green and purple leggings and sparkly Crocs before gesturing for her to follow him into the car.

Bellamy’s heart thudded in his ears as he strapped Madi in her car seat and joined Clarke in the front. She was fiddling with the cassette tape attachment, hooking it up to her phone so she could play Madi’s favorite music through the speakers. _Under the Sea_ echoed through the car as he pulled out of the driveway, the car pulsing with the sound of the cheerful xylophone.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Clarke asked, scooting as close to him on the bench as her seatbelt would allow.

“No, it’s a surprise,” he shrugged, throwing his arm around the bench and letting his fingers brush against Clarke’s shoulder. He was trying to keep his cool but internally he was freaking out, his proximity to Clarke was further muddling his thoughts.

They drove in comfortable silence, listening to Madi quietly sing along to the Disney music and kick her feet against the leather seat with a soft thud. The route was familiar, dipping into suburbia and toward an area full of large, single-story homes.

“Are we going to Murphy and Emori’s? The surprise was an afternoon with Murphy?” Clarke gasped, turning in her seatbelt so she could give Bellamy an indignant look.

“Madi is going to Murphy’s,” Bellamy said, eyes still trained on the road. His expression was unreadable, missing its usual teasing glimmer. It was kind of unsettling, making Clarke’s stomach dip with nervousness. If she didn’t know Bellamy so well, she would’ve been concerned he was going to drive them off a cliff. He was acting kind of manic.

They pulled in front of the red brick colonial, carrying Madi up the driveway where Emori was waiting for them in the open garage door. Behind them, all three of their kids were finger painting Murphy, who was standing in the middle of the garage clad only in a pair of swim trunks.

“Madi’s here!!” Elizabeth yelled, dropping a paper plate full of yellow paint and running toward them. She immediately took Madi’s hand and led her back to the others, bending to quietly explain the game to her.

“Thanks for having her over,” Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head at the craziness.

“I should be thanking you, she’s been asking for a little sister for **years** ,” Emori sighed, watching as Elizabeth clumsily lifted Madi so she could splat paint against Murphy’s side.

They chatted aimlessly for a while, watching as the kids tried to climb Murphy like a tree and managed to smear paint in his eyes. As the garage broke into chaos, Bellamy signaled their exit and pulled Clarke back to the car. He was still being weird, but his demeanor had softened slightly.

“Are we going to look at a new flip?” she tried, switching the music from Madi’s playlist to an old Beatles song.

The car filled with the gentle music, washing a wave of calm over Bellamy. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to will away the creep of nervousness around his neck.

“Nope,” he said after a long silence, flicking his gaze toward her briefly before looking back to the road.

Clarke resigned, flopping back against the seat and scrolling for another song to play. She would look up every so often, clearly analyzing him. Bellamy knew this whole thing was crazy, he was probably two minutes away from Clarke jumping out of a moving car, but it was now or never.

***

They had been driving for a long time now, an endless stretch of highway in front of them. The car had been silent almost the entire time, not quite a comfortable one but not really uncomfortable either. Clarke had grown bored of scrolling through Spotify, switching back to the radio after a few songs and settling in to stare at the blur of green out the window. She had no idea where they were going, and every time she asked, Bellamy would just ignore her or change the subject. This whole thing was becoming increasingly bizarre, further offset by his anxious demeanor.

Finally, she heard the click of the turn signal as Bellamy glided into an exit. A sea of lights flickered in front of them, thousands of little red flashes.

“The airport?” Clarke asked, brows knitting together in confusion as they neared the drop off lanes. “I know today was hard, but we can’t run away—” Clarke began, fear spiking as the possibilities of why Bellamy had brought her here flipped through her mind.

“This seemed like a better idea in my head,” Bellamy said softly, pulling into one of the parking spots right by the doors. “Now that we’re actually here…it’s kind of dumb.”

“Bellamy! What is going on?” she snapped, voice a mix between frustration and confusion. “You’ve been acting weird all day and now we’re here—are you having a crisis?!”

“Fuck, this was a stupid idea. Let’s just—” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair and thudding his head back against the seat.

Clarke softened, unclicking her seatbelt to scoot up to his side, placing a hand on his thigh. The gesture sent a rush of warmth through Bellamy’s veins, stilling the anxiety he had been feeling. He had made it this far, at this point, it would be impossible to not go through with this plan. “Talk to me Bell,” she whispered, giving him the same soft look she always did when she was trying to reassure him.

Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to compose himself. In his head, this had seemed like a grand romantic gesture. He had been wracking his brain since Mt. Weather over how to tell Clarke how he felt. Nothing had felt right, not romantic dinners or hanging string lights in the backyard. He had finally had the idea to recreate the moment he dropped her off at the airport, the moment that he had first wanted to tell her the truth. It had seemed like a romantic grand gesture in his head, a perfect moment. In reality, cabs were honking around them and the click of people’s hazard lights flashed in his peripheral—it was awkward and he kind of felt like he might throw up.

“I wanted this to be a grand gesture, a big, romantic thing that you would remember forever. I didn’t really account for the fact that there would be other people here, or that it would be rainy and wet outside or that the airport is just kind of gross. You deserve the Eiffel tower, a sunset and a really expensive bottle of champagne but all I’ve got is this airport, our truck and the weight of a confession I wanted to make fifteen years ago in this exact spot,” Bellamy began, placing his hand on top of Clarke’s. This wasn’t anything like he had imagined, but it felt distinctly them. It was messy and complicated and weird, but it felt right. Once the words started flowing, he couldn’t stop them.

Clarke felt dizzy as the implication of his statement set in, pulse racing as she desperately studied Bellamy’s face. Suddenly, the memory of the day she had left for Italy came rushing back. Bellamy had overslept, leaving him frazzled and frantic as he dropped them off. It had been wildly out of character, seeing him so off-kilter. There had been so much going on that morning though, Clarke had barely registered that something was wrong.

He had hugged her tighter than usual and pressed a kiss to her cheek as they said goodbye, barely saying anything as she and Octavia left. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, so wrapped up in her own anxiety, she hadn’t even thought to consider what was going through Bellamy’s head. Was he saying what she thought he was? Had they really missed each other so narrowly?

“I realized today that nothing in our lives is guaranteed. We’ve spent a lot of time treading water and I spent years hitting myself for being too scared to tell you how I really felt. Almost every good memory of my adult life is intrinsically tied to you. Sometimes I think about what could have been if I had been bolder when we were in college, but I’m kind of glad things happened the way they did. I’m really happy with the way our lives turned out. I love our weird kids, our farmhouse, our business. These past few months have been some of the best of my life. For a long time, it felt like being best friends would be enough, that even if you didn’t—feel the same way, I would have that. And don’t get me wrong, not a day goes by where I don’t feel like the luckiest man alive for our friendship. But having the kids, living together, getting to spend every minute of the day with you—it’s made me realize that I don’t want to live with the regret of never knowing. I love you, Clarke, I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want you to be the last person I see before I fall asleep and the first person I see when I wake up. I want to spend the rest of my life hearing you sing bedtime songs to our kids and pressing your cold feet against my legs—”

Clarke felt tears trickle down her cheeks as she took in Bellamy’s words, she couldn’t believe it. The world felt like it had tilted into place, the grey day suddenly looking brighter…more beautiful. Fifteen years later, Bellamy was confessing his love to her in front of the airport, the same airport where he had inadvertently broken her heart. She couldn’t contain her emotions any longer, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Bellamy was only halfway through his speech, words catching in his throat as Clarke pressed a kiss to his jaw. He let himself sink into the hug, heart still racing from his confession.

“I love you too,” she said wetly, pressing the words into the skin of his neck. She never wanted to let go, wanted to live inside this moment forever. Hearing him say those words made every moment of uncertainty fade away. “I love you and I love our life and I want to be with you too.”

He clung tightly to her, tuning out the flurry of the airport and focusing solely on the feel of Clarke in his arms. She loved him back, she wanted this. He couldn’t believe it was real, that this was happening.

“You beat me to the punch,” Clarke admitted, pulling back slightly but not wanting to be farther than a few breaths away. “I had a whole thing planned, made a dinner reservation…I was going to tell you this weekend. But I guess it’s fitting since you would’ve beaten me to the punch fifteen years ago too.”

Bellamy froze, processing what she had just admitted. “Wait what?” he asked, pulling back slightly so he could see her face.

Clarke laughed, wiping her eyes as she recounted the phone call, her realization, the baggage claim. It felt good to finally tell him the truth, and it felt even better to know that he had felt the same way this whole time.

Bellamy felt a laugh bubble in his chest at her words, she had been wrestling with this the entire time too. They had narrowly missed each other. He had spent half his life trying to get over a girl who had loved him back.

Carefully, he pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers. It felt like his heart was about to explode. He reached out, cupping her jaw, just studying Clarke’s face. Even with the honking cars and the rain pounding against the windshield, it was a perfect moment.

They were so close Clarke could see every freckle on Bellamy’s cheeks, it was so achingly familiar but mixed with the rush of something new. It was thrilling and terrifying, she never wanted this feeling to go away. A surge of emotion filled her chest, she couldn’t handle the tension anymore, closing the distance between them.

It felt like a sigh of relief, years of love and longing loaded in the kiss. Clarke funneled all the emotions she had been feeling for the past month into it, pressing her lips desperately against Bellamy’s. She had imagined this for so long, wanted this for so long. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, easing her lips open to deepen the kiss.

A small moan escaped from Clarke’s lips as the kiss shifted from soft and sweet to something more desperate. A flash of need pulsed through as she edged closer, pressing every ridge of their bodies together. She desperately wanted to crawl into his lap, to feel his hands on her but the noises around them served as a harsh reminder that they were in public.

Growing lightheaded, Clarke pulled back, sliding her hands up his shoulders to cradle his jaw. They were both panting heavily, the glass was slightly fogged from their activities and Bellamy leaned forward, nudging their noses together.

“Your plan probably would’ve been more romantic than this,” he said between kisses, pressing his lips against her cheeks, nose, and lips.

“Yeah probably, but it wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t a little convoluted,” she agreed, catching his lips in another, longer kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated against her lips, unable to keep his smile down. It got in the way of their kisses but it felt way too good to stop. No amount of fantasizing or longing could’ve prepared him for this—this felt like coming home.

“I love you too,” she agreed, pulling her into another hug and burying her face into his neck. It was grounding, a relief after years of wondering. “Damn that feels good to say out loud.”

Bellamy pulled Clarke so tightly against his body that it lifted her up off the seat. He couldn’t believe it. Clarke Griffin loved him back, and even if nothing else was for certain, Bellamy knew everything was going to be okay.


	8. A Cosmic Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Die a Happy Man by: Thomas Rhett 
> 
> **There is a sex scene at the end (after the last set of asterisks) in case anyone would prefer not to read it. It's very vanilla but I wanted everyone to be aware in case you have trouble with things like that**

Jordan seemed muted as he walked through the door. He ignored them completely, balling up the sleeves of his sweater in his fists and running up the stairs. Charlotte, on the other hand, was still smiling, a worn cream sweater pulled around her thin shoulders. She waved to them both, bending to pick up Madi and carrying her into the kitchen.

“The visit seemed to go well on my end, I have another one scheduled in two weeks. Jordan was quite timid, you may need to prepare him a few days before the next one,” Anya said, tone neutral as she looked down at her clipboard.

“You’re joking right?! The kid is inconsolable, if he doesn’t want to—” Bellamy replied sharply, taking a step forward and dropping his voice.

“Unfortunately, in the eyes of the system, reunification usually takes precedent. Jordan’s case is…unconventional, but there isn’t much I can do.”

“His opinion has to count for something right?” Clarke asked, lacing her hand with Bellamy’s.

“At his age, it’s a toss-up. I wouldn’t count on it,” Anya shrugged, clicking her pen and tucking it in the groove of her clipboard.

“But—”

“I already told you my hands are tied.”

Wordlessly, she gave them a curt nod and shut the door behind her, leaving Bellamy and Clarke standing in the foyer shellshocked.

“She basically told us to fuck off nicely,” Bellamy groaned, playing with Clarke’s fingers, a flicker of anger burning in his chest.

“I always imagined that adoption counselors would be—”

“More like Maya and less like Murphy?” he chuckled, nodding in agreement as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

Clarke laughed with him, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Bellamy’s torso. It felt good to be able to do this so casually, even if it was tinged with the sour conversation from earlier. His heart thudded under her ear, grounding her.

“Is there anything to eat? I’m still kind of—” Charlotte called, peeking her head around the corner. “Oh shit, I’ll just look in the fridge, sorry.”

“No wait, I’ll fix you something,” Bellamy assured, waiting till Charlotte had disappeared before pressing a quick kiss to Clarke’s lips and moving to follow her.

Clarke watched his retreating form, the rush of the kiss causing a flutter in her stomach. As much as she was thrilled, she wished they had had more time to enjoy their newfound relationship. It had only been a few happy moments of kissing before Bellamy’s alarm sounded and they had to head back to pick up Madi. Sure, they had kissed at every red right, leaving them both breathless by the time they pulled into Murphy’s driveway, but their little bubble of joy had been entirely too shortlived.

They had done everything backward and it had never felt more obvious than it did right now—she was giddy about it of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder whether they would ever get to feel like a normal couple. She ached to follow him into the kitchen, to let him kiss her and lift her up on the counter. But they had responsibilities now—wonderful responsibilities whom she loved but obstructive to her fantasies all the same.

Putting her musings aside, Clarke gently pushed aside Jordan’s door. He had tucked himself in the small space between his bookcase and his bed, folding his tiny limbs until he was barely visible from the door.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she said quietly, sitting on the floor and resting her back against the bookcase. “We can just sit here together.”

They sat in silence, their quiet breathing filling the empty space. Slowly, Jordan eased himself out of his spot, moving to sit on Clarke’s lap. She ran her hand down his back, teasing the curls at the back of his neck, just soothing him.

 _“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to flyyy. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive…”_ Clarke sang gently, leaning her cheek against Jordan’s soft black hair. She held him close, pouring all her love into it, trying to pull away all his hurt and confusion.

“I wanna stay here forever,” Jordan mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Clarke’s shoulder as the song finished.

“We want you to stay here forever too,” Clarke assured, kissing the top of his head. “Every day has highs and lows, sometimes when we’re feeling low, it helps to think about the highs. What’s something that made you happy today?”

“I liked the bird song—and I had McDonald's for dinner,” he said, voice strengthening slightly.

“Ohh what did you have at McDonald’s?”

Jordan’s tears began to dry as he pulled out his Happy Meal toy from his pocket and explained it to Clarke. She redirected his attention toward the new subject, allowing him to babble aimlessly about chicken nuggets and apple slices. By the time Charlotte appeared in the doorway, he seemed almost back to his normal self.

“I asked Bellamy for a snack and somehow got roped into a hot chocolate and popcorn party in the living room,” Charlotte said, trying to seem annoyed but it was obvious she didn’t really mind. “If you don’t want to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks for the hundredth time, I suggest you hurry,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared toward her room.

Jordan cracked a genuine smile and Clarke felt a wave of relief, it was so good to see him happy again. “I wanna watch Scooby-Doo,” he yelled, springing out of Clarke’s lap and waving his hand for her to follow as he ran down the stairs.

Clarke waited until she heard his feet safely reach the landing, accident prone as he was, it wouldn’t been out of character for him to roll down the entire flight of stairs. She was about to turn toward Charlotte’s room, when the door swung back open and she stepped out clad in a pair of striped pink pajamas. Clarke had picked them out months ago, right after they had seen the pictures of the kids. Charlotte had just been a figment of her imagination back then and they had seemed like the kind of thing a teenage girl would’ve liked. Once they had met her, Clarke had assumed they had gotten pushed to the back of the closet, doomed to one day be donated to Goodwill.

“How’s your mom?” she asked carefully, smiling but not mentioning the pajamas.

“She’s pretty good, probably the best I’ve seen her in a long time,” Charlotte answered, falling into step beside Clarke as they moved slowly down the steps.

“That’s really great, I’m really happy for you.”

“It’s kind of bittersweet though, Jordan was pretty much mute for the entire day. I’m worried about how he’s going to react if we have to leave.”

“Let us worry about that. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“I’ve never seen him like how he is here, so—happy. I wish there was a way for my mom to just move in here with us,” Charlotte sighed, seeming genuinely regretful as she gave Clarke a loaded look.

Clarke didn’t know how to respond to the statement, giving Charlotte a closed-mouth smile. From the looks of it, it seemed like Jordan wasn’t the only one feeling conflicted about the visit. Before she could dig further into it, Bellamy came bursting out of the kitchen with an armful of mugs. Madi and Jordan were closely behind each holding a bowl of popcorn as big as their torso.

“We decided that the middle ground between s-q-u-e-a-k-i-e-s and Scooby-Doo is Harry Potter,” Bellamy chuckled, setting all the mugs out on the coffee table and falling back into the plush couch.

“Who came to that conclusion?” Clarke teased picking up Madi and holding her close as she snuggled into Bellamy’s side, tucking her head against his chest. Jordan crawled into Bellamy’s lap; his spill-proof cup of hot chocolate held tightly against his chest.

Charlotte remained frozen in her spot, eyes flitting between her usual armchair and the rest of them piled on the couch. She stepped forward, reaching for a mug of hot chocolate while she mulled over her choices. Finally, she settled on the floor, leaning her back against Bellamy’s legs. It wasn’t much, but it was closer than she had ever sat before. Not wanting to overreact and spook her, Clarke chanced a look at Bellamy, sharing an excited fist bump over Madi’s head. It felt like a huge win.

Despite being enraptured by the magic and the castle, Jordan and Madi had both fallen asleep before the end. Charlotte had been quiet for most of it, keeping her place against Bellamy’s legs. It almost seemed like she wanted to say something, turning around every so often to look at them but she never actually did. Even once they had clicked the TV off, she stood up quickly bidding them both goodnight and disappearing up the stairs.

Clarke hauled up Madi’s sleeping form, pausing at the foot of the stairs to wait for Bellamy. The air between them shifted, suddenly electrified by the prospect of finally being alone. She hurried up the stairs, tucking Madi gently into bed and smoothing down her bangs before dipping back into the hallway. She leaned against the wall, exhaling through her nose and willing her heartbeat to still. It was crazy, but she was nervous. She had no reason to be, this was Bellamy—the same Bellamy that she had laughed and cried with, but she was about to see a side of him that she had never seen before.

Part of this still didn’t feel real, like she was going to wake up alone in her apartment and this would all have been a dream. She had never let herself believe that this was possible, that he could love her back, that he would want her like this.

“Hey there,” Bellamy whispered, clicking Jordan’s door shut and moving toward her. The hallway was dark, and she could only really make out his outline as he stepped closer. She was hyperaware of his movements, the soft thud of his feet against the wood suddenly magnified. By the time he stepped into her space, it felt like every hair on her body was standing up. Her lips tingled as he bent down, slowly catching her lips in a slow kiss. It was careful, a testing of the waters. She melted back into the wall, letting him hold her up and running her hands lazily up and down his chest.

The kiss picked up, growing more desperate as his tongue ran across the seam of her lips. It felt like a question, asking her if she wanted to go slow or if she wanted to take this further. A flash of need pulsed low in Clarke’s stomach, urging her to wrap her hands around his neck and pull him closer. It was like they had jumped off a cliff, free falling into new territory.

Clarke moaned, tipping her head back as she felt Bellamy grind against her. It was overwhelming, like every nerve in her body was firing at once—but it wasn’t enough, she wanted more. Not caring how needy it sounded, she moaned again, it came out more like a whine this time and hitched her leg up against his hip.

He mouthed against her neck, letting out a low moan as she ground against him. His hand trailed up the side of her thigh, wandering high enough to palm her ass and then moving back down to lift her off the ground.

“Bellamy,” she groaned, letting her head thud back against the wall as he kissed up and down the column of her neck, peppering her collarbone with kisses.

Nipping her collarbone, he stepped back from the wall to walk them toward the bedroom. Clarke dug her fingers in his biceps, relishing how easy it seemed to be for him to carry her, it was like she weighed nothing. He flexed lightly, clearly enjoying the attention and she smirked against his lips, swatting at his arm.

They reached his room and she yelped as he tossed her lightly onto the bed, reaching over to flick on the bedside lamps before rolling on top of her.

“Wanted to see you,” he said, bumping their noses together gently. “You’re so beautiful.” He said it so earnestly it was almost painful and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. It was familiar, something he had done hundreds, if not thousands of times before, but it felt strangely intimate. On his bed, with the lights on, the same feeling he had gotten in the car came rushing back.

Their kisses slowed, shifting from desperate and needy to wet and hot. It was messy, sending a wave of heat pulsing through his veins. Fueled by desire, he slipped a hand under her loose tank top, rubbing his hand up and down her bare skin.

Clarke moaned again, and he pushed her shirt up fully, pulling it over her head as she slid her arms out of it.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out, taking in her thin, white lace bra and the outline of rosy nipples.

Clarke laughed, running her palms across Bellamy’s cheeks as he pressed feather-light kisses to the tops of her breasts and kneaded them with his palms.

“Mhmm, come here,” she murmured, tugging gently on his hair to pull him back to her. It had only been a few minutes, but she already missed the feel of his lips. She felt drunk off it like she could kiss him every minute for the rest of her life and it still wouldn’t be enough. “I love you, I—” she began, cupping his jaw in her hands.

Before she could finish, the floorboard by the door creaked and cracked open to reveal Jordan. His hair was sticking up in a hundred directions and he had a distressed expression etched into his features.

“I had an accident,” he whispered, voice so soft it was barely audible.

Clarke sprung up, retrieving her shirt from the floor and shouldering it on as she moved to console Jordan. She figured it was just a nightmare, but as she neared, she realized the front of his pajamas were wet.

“Hey baby, it’s okay. Accidents happen, it’s just a part of life,” she assured, smoothing down his hair and reaching out to clasp his small hands in hers. It was kind of surprising, kids his age didn’t usually have problems like this anymore, he must’ve have been more upset by today than they had realized.

“Why don’t we get you some clean PJs and take a quick bath, okay?” “Bellamy added, rolling quickly out of the bed and following as Clarke led Jordan toward the bathroom.

Jordan’s distress served as an effective mood killer, forcing them to once again set aside their moment for the sake of their kid. Clarke’s fears from earlier came rising back up as she filled the tub with warm water and bubbles. Would they ever be able to get a minute alone? At the rate they were going it didn’t seem like it.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, running a hand slowly through the bubbles as Clarke gently rubbed soap into his skin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about Jordan, it was an accident. We love you no matter what.”

“I had a bad dream and I got scared.”

“Well you’re in luck, I have magic socks that keep the bad dreams away,” Bellamy smiled, placing a fresh stack of PJs onto the counter and holding out a fluffy towel for him to step into.

He wrapped Jordan in a tight hug with the towel, the poor kid had had a hard and embarrassing day. Bellamy held him tightly, wishing life was simpler for Jordan, that he didn’t have to carry so much hurt.

“You can sleep in our bed tonight too,” Clarke said, holding out the pajama pants for Jordan to step into. “That way we can make sure dad’s magic socks work.”

Bellamy nodded seriously, gesturing for them to follow him back to the bedroom. He dug through his sock drawer, unsure of what special socks were really supposed to look like. Finally, balled up in the corner of the drawer was a pair of joke socks Octavia had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago. They were bright yellow and printed with pictures of Demeter’s face on them, just ridiculous enough to pass for magic.

“These should do the trick,” he winked, slipping the socks onto Jordan’s feet. They were comically large, reaching almost to his kneecaps but they brought a wide smile to his face as he snuggled happily into the middle of the bed.

Clarke gave Bellamy a soft smile, covering his arm with hers as they cradled Jordan between them, sandwiching him between their bodies.

“I love you too, just in case you forgot,” he said, trying to make out Clarke’s features in the dark and grinning when he caught the flash of her smile. It was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and even though it wasn’t the night he had been hoping for, it was still kind of perfect.

***

Clarke rolled out a thin layer of dough on the white marble counter, listening to Bellamy and Jordan chat aimlessly about a puzzle in the living room. She cut out little hearts with a cookie cutter, arranging them neatly on a baking tray. They looked a little more like butts than she had hoped but it would be cute to decorate them for Valentine’s day.

“Do you wanna help me cut these Mads?” Clarke called, waving the cookie cutter at Madi where she sat at the wide oak table. She was hunched intently over a piece of paper, one crayon in each hand, her tongue stuck between her teeth in concentration.

“I busy,” Madi huffed, not looking up from her coloring.

Bellamy chuckled as he walked into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to the top of Madi’s head and rounding the counter to wrap his arms around Clarke’s torso. Clarke leaned back against him, closing her eyes as he kissed her neck.

“Mhmm, are those for me?” He whispered, biting her earlobe playfully. “Butts is an odd choice for cookies.”

“They’re hearts you jerk!” she giggled, wiggling in his arms until her back was pressed up against the counter. She reached up to cup Bellamy’s jaw, kissing his cheekbones, nose, chin and finally his lips.

They kissed lazily, it was an evening kitchen kiss—relatively tame, but laced with pent up heat. It felt like the universe had been plotting against them for the past week, every time they tried to get a minute alone there was a crisis. Jordan had been extra sensitive and clingy since the visit with Charlotte’s mom and Madi had decided that she was suddenly very keen on midnight snacks. Between the two of them, they were lucky to get five minutes alone, let alone enough time to actually blow off any steam.

Clarke was starting to go crazy, the pent up frustration building under her skin like fire ants. Every touch from Bellamy set her on edge, making her body ache with need.

“Hello, I drawed this,” Madi interrupted, poking impatiently at Bellamy’s leg. “Daddyyyyy, look.”

Bellamy pecked Clarke one last time before hauling Madi up and sitting her on the counter. She held out the piece of paper proudly.

“It’s our family,” Clarke smiled, eyes prickling with tears as she looked at the crayon scribbles.

“Uh-huh,” Madi nodded, pointing to each of the figures. “Das mommy and daddy and Jordy and Charwette and me and puppy and kitty cats,” the scribble figures all had different colored loops for their hair, indicating who was who.

“It’s beautiful Mads,” Bellamy said proudly, taking the drawing and sticking it to the fridge with a letter shaped magnet. “Now it’s got a super special place on the fridge where everyone can see.”

Madi beamed, happily kicking her feet against the counter as she looked at her drawing. Clarke smiled, reaching out to toy with one of her curls. Madi was developing a personality, and it was fun to watch. She was creative and a little sassy, as she got older, she was carving out her little spot in the world.

Clarke, Madi, and Bellamy cut out the rest of the cookies, giggling about how they looked like butts and laying them out in patterns on the tray. Madi grew bored of it eventually, the novelty of pressing the metal rings into the dough fading away. After the third tray, she held her arms out to wiggle off the counter and ran into the living room to play.

“There’s like 60 cookies here, just put the rest of the dough in the fridge,” Bellamy sighed, eyeing the huge bowl of remaining dough resting on the counter.

“That sounds like quitter talk to me,” Clarke teased, bumping her hip against his as she pushed a tray into the oven. Bellamy grinned wickedly, lunging to wrap his arm around her waist and lifting her off the floor.

“Why quit when you can cheat?” he chuckled, spinning her around and lifting her to sit on the counter.

“You play a dirty game, Blake.”

“Dirty is one way to put it,” he said, running a single finger down the side of her face to tilt up her chin. The movement sent chills down Clarke’s spine, urging her to move closer, to chase the heat of his body.

He hovered their lips a breath apart, teasing her, just breathing the same the air. Clarke whined softly, fisting her hands in Bellamy’s shirt to pull him closer. It sounded desperate and needy, but she didn’t care.

When he finally bent down to catch her lips, she moaned softly, the sound going straight to Bellamy’s dick. Clarke’s legs were bracketing his hips from her position on the counter and he bucked forward experimentally, swearing softly when she ground against him.

“We can’t,” she groaned, pulling back slightly before she lost her ability to focus completely. She was panting, barely able to catch her breath. “The kids are right there.”

Bellamy rolled his head forward with a long exhale, fitting his face into the crook of Clarke’s neck. She hugged him tightly, rubbing her hand absently against his back.

“This is torture babe,” he said, peppering kisses into her skin. He had made it fourteen years longing to be with Clarke, and now she was right in front of him and they couldn’t get a minute alone. It was like a cosmic joke.

“I keep telling myself to be patient but at this point, a strong breeze is going to push me over the edge.”

“Do you think they’d notice if we just slipped out the back?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows, stifling a laugh but she actually looked over her shoulder toward the dark backyard. Before she could even consider entertaining the idea, Bellamy sprung back, eyes wide.

Confused, Clarke spun on the counter, jaw dropping when she caught sight of Charlotte. She was wearing a leather bra, fishnet stockings, and the world’s smallest shorts, paired with a pair of heels that were clearly nicked from Clarke’s closet.

Bellamy held both his hands up, unsure of how he should approach the situation. Things had changed since Octavia was young, he knew that there were a lot of layers to the way teenage girls dressed now. It was probably better for Clarke to handle this one.

“Where are you going?! And what are you wearing?” Clarke asked, trying to keep her voice level as she pushed off the counter to address Charlotte.

“They’re clothes! It’s what’s in style right now! There’s a party at my friend Leah’s house,” she said defensively, barely looking up from her phone.

“If you call those clothes, then I’m worried about what you consider underwear.”

“Why do you have to be so annoying?! I guess you were just pretending to be cool this whole time.”

“I couldn’t care less if you think I’m cool. You have your whole life to dress however you want, I’m sure you have plenty of more age-appropriate outfits.”

“Bellamy help me out here,” Charlotte yelled indignantly, stamping her foot against the tile floor.

“You’re entitled to do what you want with your body but there’s a line and you crossed it. Clarke’s right it’s not appropriate,” he replied coolly, moving to stand beside Clarke to illustrate that they were a united front.

“Sorry I don’t want to dress like a geriatric nurse!” she screamed, gesturing toward Clarke’s cardigan and leggings. “God, you’re both the fucking worst.”

She ran her hands through her long blonde curls, spinning in a circle with her frustration. When she turned, Bellamy caught sight of a little black piece of plastic in her pocket.

“Is that a vape?!” He exclaimed, scrubbing his hand over his face as he realized that this argument had officially progressed into new territory.

“It’s not a big deal,” Charlotte said defensively, putting her hand protectively over her pocket.

“Put it on the counter right now.”

“No, it’s mine. You don’t get to take my sh—”

“Last time I checked you’re 15 and it's illegal for you to have that thing. Now hand it over,” Bellamy said, raising his voice sharply and smacking his hand against the granite.

“Narc,” she muttered, slamming the vape on the counter so hard that it seemed like it was going to break and turning to storm out of the house.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Clarke snapped, voice cracking from the strain. “You seriously think that you’re going to a party after all that?!”

“So, it’s fine for me to drink White Claws with my friends in my room but the second I try to leave the house it becomes a crime?!”

“I let you off the hook **one time** because Bellamy was literally bleeding from the mouth and your brother was missing, that doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re twenty-five.”

“Ugh, I hate you,” Charlotte huffed, turned on her heel and storming out of the kitchen. She paused her stomping to stop in front of Bellamy, “I hate you too just so you know,” she spat, continuing her loud march up the stairs.

Bellamy pressed his fingers into his closed eyes, letting his vision fill with specks of white. He briefly considered just allowing himself to pass out, it would probably be less headache inducing than this.

“Teenagers…” Clarke sighed, picking up the vape from where it was lying and chucking it into the trash.

“That brought back nightmares of the fights I used to have with O…at least those cotton candy cancer sticks weren’t a thing back then.”

They both stood with their elbows propped against the counter, all the electricity completely drained from the air. Maybe they were jinxed, anytime they got close to having sex, something catastrophic would happen.

“I dun hate you,” Madi’s tiny voice said matter-of-factly, toddling over to them and leaning her cheek against Clarke’s leg.

All the stress drained from Clarke’s body as she picked Madi up and held her tightly, stepping into Bellamy’s space so they could hug.

“Don’t ever become a teenager Mads,” Bellamy sighed, kissing the crown of her head and Clarke’s cheek.

***

Things had been icy with Charlotte ever since their blow out, she went straight from school to her room, barely interacting with them at all. As much as Clarke wanted to pretend it didn’t bother her, it stung. Sure, she was acting like a normal teenager, but the silence was deafening.

Clarke rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the tension that had been knotted there for the past few days. It felt like they couldn’t catch a break, just as Jordan was starting to get back into his normal routine, Charlotte had decided to go off the rails.

She cracked her neck, stepping under the warm spray of the shower and letting the heat seep into her tired muscles. It felt good to just relax and enjoy a few moments of peace. She sang softly to herself, letting her hands roam her body. She felt coiled up like a spring, ready to pop any second.

“I like this song,” a small voice said from somewhere in the bathroom and Clarke jumped, knocking over a few shampoo bottles and almost slipping on the wet tile in her haste to cover up what she had been about to do.

Steadying herself, Clarke peeked her head out of the shower to find Madi sitting on the bathroom floor rolling a plastic car. She seemed wholly unbothered by the fact that Clarke was in the shower and also naked.

“What’re you doing up?” Clarke exclaimed, trying to avoid getting conditioner in her eyes.

“I not tired,” she shrugged, looking up at Clarke with wide blue eyes.

“Fair enough,” Clarke sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth getting into and turning back to her shower. Madi would be fine on the floor until her hair was washed. Her other activities would have to wait for another time.

Madi played quietly for the entire duration of Clarke’s shower, babbling to herself about how her car was trying to climb up on the toilet.

Bellamy was sprawled across the bed in just a pair of grey sweatpants, hands tucked behind his head. Clarke’s mouth went dry as she took him in, he looked gorgeous, long lines of lean muscle and tanned skin. She couldn’t help the small puff of air that escaped from her lips, momentarily cursing the fact that she was holding a toddler. Her body was screaming for her to climb on top of him and grind shamelessly against his dick. The outline was just barely visible through the light fabric and it was making it hard to think. He turned his head lazily toward her and jumped when he realized Madi was wrapped around one of her legs.

“I not tired,” Madi repeated, bouncing excitedly and waving at Bellamy.

Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, visibly trying to suppress his frustration about the situation. This was reaching a new level of ridiculousness.

“How about we get you a snack and then its back to bed,” he sighed, not bothering with a shirt as he plucked Madi off the floor.

As much as she desperately wished this wasn’t happening, something about shirtless Bellamy holding Madi made her heart beat a little faster. It was what Clarke loved most about him, that even though he was the hottest person she had ever seen, he was also the kindest person she knew. He really was a great dad. Her hornyness would be the death of her, but at least it was for a worthy cause.

She stepped into her PJs, listening as Bellamy tried to bribe Madi to come back upstairs with Goldfish. It was the beginning of what was always a long, drawn-out argument.

Part of her knew that she should go downstairs and help them, but the weight of Charlotte’s closed door haunted her from the end of the hallway.

As much as she didn’t want to, they had to talk.

“Charlotte? Can I come in?” she asked carefully, knocking lightly on the door.

“Go away.”

“You can’t stay mad at us forever…”

“Watch me!”

“C’mon Charlotte…”

There was no answer and Clarke took that as an invitation to push the door open. If she waited for Charlotte to come around, they might be speaking in time for her college graduation.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” she huffed, sitting up in her bed and glaring at Clarke.

“Well, too bad, I’m here now.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on…things actually seemed like they were okay for a while. Did something happen? If this is just about the outfit, I’ll leave you alone, but I want to make sure.”

Charlotte paused, playing with the fraying edge of her blanket and avoiding eye-contact. “I’m just annoyed, am I not allowed to be annoyed?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re the most emotionally constipated person I’ve ever met, you don’t get to tell me I need to express myself better.”

“I am not emotionally constipated.”

“Hi, I’m your platonically fostered child, nice to meet you.”

“Hilarious,” Clarke said, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “How about you tell me something and I’ll tell you something?” she tried, knowing this was probably not the soundest parenting tactic, but at this point she was desperate.

Charlotte eyed her wearily but seemed to drop some of the hardness in her expression. “I wore the outfit to piss you off and obviously it worked. I just thought it would be a way to annoy you, I didn’t consider that Bellamy would go ballistic over the vape or that you guys wouldn’t let me go to the party,” she began, pulling her legs up to allow Clarke to spread across the foot of the bed. “The guy I like hooked up with someone else at the party because I wasn’t there. So everything is just kind of fuc—messed up.”

Clarke cringed at Charlotte’s mention of hooking up, now was probably not a good time for a safe sex talk but she filed it away for later. That was definitely something she would have to deal with another time. Her heart went out to her, dating sucked and boys were almost always huge jerks. Sometimes it was really hard to be a teenage girl. This didn’t quite feel like the entire picture of why Charlotte was so upset, but it was enough to work with.

“If he hooked up with someone else, he wasn’t the right guy for you anyway. I know it sucks, you can definitely hate him for a while if you want but there will be other, cuter ones…I promise.”

“He’s so sensitive and artsy though. His hair does the swoopy swoop thing.”

Clarke laughed, tipping her head back and reminiscing on her own romantic pitfalls. Charlotte’s boy sounded a hell of a lot like Finn Collins and if he was anything like Finn, she was in for a world of hurt.

“I dated a boy like that. He dated me and Raven at the same time and didn’t tell us—it’s how we became friends actually.”

“You’re kidding…”

“The audacity of men—and women too, I’ve dated both—is truly remarkable.”

“That doesn’t help at all,” Charlotte groaned, thudding her head back against the headboard. Clarke leaned forward, reaching out to squeeze Charlotte’s knee as she sulked.

“I promise you one day you’ll find some who makes you feel like the world is perfect and everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay spill, now what’s your thing. You promised, fair is fair. That was cheesier than usual…even for you,” Charlotte grinned wickedly, seeming to recover from her angst to relish in Clarke’s discomfort.

Clarke had forgotten about her part of the deal, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. It didn’t really feel right to talk about her new, happy relationship right after Charlotte had shared her heartbreak. But there didn’t seem to be a good way to deflect this either. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something else she could admit to. It was really a testament to how boring she was that she couldn’t scrape together even a remotely convincing lie.

“C’mon…you started this.”

“Okay fine, uhh Bellamy and I are kind of a couple now,” Clarke blurted out, speaking so quickly that the words stuck together.

Charlotte paused, taking a minute to deconstruct what Clarke had just said before letting out a small squeal. “Wait, seriously?! Like you’re not joking.”

“Not joking, we’re dating.”

“Took you long enough,” Charlotte smirked, poking her lightly in the bicep. “Thank God you finally got your act together.”

“I’ll take the compliment and ignore the jab.”

“Your sappy comment about finding my true love suddenly makes so much more sense.”

“I stand by what I said.”

“If I ever find my soulmate and decide to platonically procreate with them please hit me over the head with a frying pan.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it, kid,” Clarke smiled, giving in to her urge to snuggle beside Charlotte. Surprisingly, she let her, wrapping her hand around Clarke’s arm and sinking back into the pillows.

***

Bellamy placed a stack of heart-shaped pancakes onto a wooden tray, shoving over the bacon and the toast to make room. He wanted it to look perfect, but layouts have never been his strong suit. There was too much food and not enough room on the tray.

“We finished our cards,” Jordan said proudly, handing two colorful crayon scribbled pieces of paper to him. Bellamy stacked them on top of his own card and set them on the tray too.

“This is mad soft,” Charlotte teased, stealing a tater-tot off the pan and eying him with a fond smirk.

“Is it too much?” Bellamy asked, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the loaded tray. He had wanted to make today special for Clarke and he may have gone a little overboard.

“I’m messing with you, it’s cute. Don’t worry.”

He couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in his stomach as they climbed up the stairs, even if it wasn’t a conventional romantic gesture, he still hoped she liked it.

“When I open the door, say it like we practiced,” he instructed, giving the younger kids a thumbs up and urging them into the room.

“‘appy Valentime's day Mommy!” Madi yelled excitedly, flinging herself up onto the bed. Jordan was close behind, wishing Clarke a happy Valentine’s day and smacking a wet kiss to her cheek. Even Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed, giggling as Clarke smeared whipped cream on Madi’s nose.

Bellamy set the tray carefully in her lap, pecking a soft kiss to her lips and moving Madi to his lap so he could sit beside her.

“This is absolutely perfect,” she murmured against his jaw, pressing her lips to his stubbled skin.

Her heart felt too full for her chest as Jordan picked up a pancake with his bare hand and smeared sticky syrup all over the sheets. It was the perfect Valentine's day, she wouldn’t have wanted anything different. As much as it had been frustrating her lately, she loved their weird and messy life.

The tray had more than enough food for five people and they all ate together on the bed, spilling crumbs onto the sheets and trying to throw chocolate chips into each other’s mouths.

It was the perfect slow morning, full of laughs and soft kisses. Clarke felt like the luckiest person alive. Her words to Charlotte came ringing back in her head, this had been worth the wait, worth all the heartbreak that had come before it. This was a once in a lifetime kind of love.

***

She crept back through the door clicking it slowly behind her, she couldn’t believe Charlotte had actually agreed to babysit Octavia’s kids for the night and had even offered to take Madi and Jordan with her. Clarke was sure it had everything to do with Octavia and nothing to do with her, but she would take the gesture all the same.

Bellamy should still be upstairs in the office, but she tried to tread lightly, bending down to pet Ryder to keep him from barking.

Carefully, she carried her grocery bags outside, setting up their date. Bellamy had beat her to the punch on the grand gestures every time, it was her turn to knock him off his feet. She laid a blanket out in the middle of the grass, setting out the bottles of wine, cheese, fruit and salami in an intricate spread.

With a final look, she clicked on the string lights and stepped back. It was picture perfect romantic, knowing them, a coyote would maul it before they got to it—but she enjoyed the aesthetics while it lasted.

“I have a surprise for you,” Clarke said, coming up behind him while he organized his screws into little compartments. He had his glasses on and they had slid halfway down his nose in concentration, it was adorably endearing. She couldn’t resist the urge to slide into his lap, pushing his glasses back up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Is this my surprise?”

“Not quite,” she teased, taking his hand and leading him downstairs. His brow furrowed at the empty living room, clearly confused by the lack of chaos.

“Wha—”

“Just wait.”

She led him through the living room and the kitchen, flicking on the string lights and sweeping her hand out to show off her handiwork.

“Just because grand romantic gestures aren’t really our thing, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve one too. Happy Valentine's day Bellamy.”

“Clarke, this is—amazing,” he grinned, pressing an excited kiss to her lips before looking over her spread. It was beautifully laid out in the way that only Clarke could have done. Maybe they weren’t the types for grand gestures, but damn did this feel good.

“I considered playing _La Vie En Rose_ when we walked out, but it felt like I was laying it on a little thick.”

He was overwhelmed by how much he loved this woman. It never ceased to amaze him…just when he thought his feelings couldn’t get any stronger, she did something like this. The glow of the lights hit her perfectly, blonde hair framing her face like a halo. As much as he wanted to do this Valentine’s day right, there was a heat between them that was so thick it was almost visible.

The food would be there all night.

He kissed her again, cupping her jaw and funneling all his emotion into it. It felt like every sweet feeling of comfort wrapped up in one kiss, settling on his skin like a warm hug. It was wet and messy, passionate and warm. Carefully, he slid his hands down to her waist, pushing her back against the grass.

She tangled her hands in his hair, urging him closer, the tension that had been building in her stomach finally snapped.

“Fuck Bellamy,” she panted, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her thin skirt flipped up almost immediately and Bellamy wedged his thigh between her legs, urging them apart and encouraging her to grind down. She could feel his dick pressed against her thigh and shifted so it was pressed against her center, thin lace doing little to prevent the scrape of denim against her skin.

“Should we go upstairs?” he asked, pulling back just slightly to catch her gaze. Her pupils were blown, black edging out the blue almost completely and her hair was spread around her head. She looked beautiful, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t suggest moving because pulling away right now would be next to impossible.

“No one’s home, let’s live a little dangerously,” she smirked, pulling him back down for another kiss. He sank into it, lining every ridge of their bodies together and relishing the soft press of Clarke against him. She slid her hands under his shirt, urging it off his shoulders.

“I like this side of you princess,” he teased, biting her lip gently as her nails scraped against the skin of his back. He pulled away from her mouth, kissing H the side of her neck, nipping the skin just hard enough to leave a faint mark.

Clarke could feel herself shaking as Bellamy peeled her shirt off, it felt like she was doing this for the first time. Her nipples pebbled in the cold air and Bellamy hissed, bending to catch one in his mouth and kneading the other in his palm.

“Need you, want you so bad. Yes, Bellamy, please.”

He rolled her nipple between his teeth, teasing her slightly before continuing his way down. He knew he wasn’t going to last long once his pants came off, he had wanted this for too long, he was already strung up so tightly. But he wanted to—needed to—watch her come undone underneath him.

He peeled back her thong almost reverently, “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head between her legs and flicking his tongue against her clit.

Clarke’s head thudded back against the grass, she moaned softly, gripping tightly to Bellamy’s hair as he licked patterns on her skin. It was dizzying, the sight of him so focused on her. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as she was, moaning deeply every time her thighs tightened against his head. He pressed feather-light kisses against her inner thighs, sending a hot squeeze of pleasure low in her belly.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her cunt and Clarke wasn’t sure whether she was seeing the stars in the sky or stars behind her eyelids. She was so on-edge, so hyperaware of his movements, it only took a few minutes for her to feel the telltale burn at the base of her spine.

“Oh my god, Bell, fuck—” she panted, bucking her hips against him as she felt her orgasm crash over her. It knocked the breath out of her chest, leaving her unable to do anything except tilt her head back and relish the tingles moving up and down her arms. “C’mere,” she murmured, pulling her up to kiss him gently. She could taste herself on his lips, sending another wave of heat through her body, even though she still felt a little boneless.

Post-orgasm, her movements were softer, slower, more deliberate. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she flipped them over, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his legs. His dick lay heavily against his thigh, barely contained by the straining material of his black briefs.

Biting her lip, she slowly rolled them down, sucking in a low breath at the sight of him bare in front of her.

“Make me yours,” she whispered, bending down to gently bite his earlobe. She couldn’t believe this was happening, after years of loving him from afar, he was here, in her arms.

Bellamy had never considered himself to be possessive, but something about her words struck something deep in his brain—something primal. He flipped them back over, pressing Clarke into the cool grass.

“Fuck, I’ve been yours for a long time,” she admitted, tilting her head back to allow him to work another mark onto her neck.

Bellamy breathed in the scent of her skin, composing himself. He was losing his grip on reality, her lips, her body—those words. He didn’t want this to be dirty and rough…not the first time, he had to show her how badly he wanted this, how much he wanted her.

He cupped her jaw, pressing their foreheads together and skimming his lips against hers as he finally sank into her. They both breathed out a sigh of relief, it felt like the universe was clicking together for the first time.

“I love you,” Clarke smiled, kissing him wetly as he began pushing into her. He had to ground himself again, taking a moment to really process that he was inside of Clarke, that she loved him.

It slow and sweet, an almost painfully beautiful moment. Clarke had never had sex like this, the kind of sex where it feels like your bodies are melting together into one. She felt like she was flying, throwing her head back and shamelessly moaning as Bellamy thrust into her. She kissed every inch of skin she had access too, biting hard against his shoulder as she felt her second orgasm nearing.

Bellamy could feel the prickle of his orgasm as Clarke sunk her teeth into his shoulder. He felt like he might blackout, or cry, the wave of emotion was so overwhelming. This was it, Clarke was the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, he wanted to feel like this every minute of every day from now on. Part of him always knew it, but as he felt her walls flutter around him and he pulsed into her, it had never been more clear. He was suddenly glad they didn’t drink before this, if he had been any bolder, he would’ve asked her to marry him.


	9. Amazing Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Rainbow by Kacey Musgraves

Clarke peeked her head around the corner, they barely ever used this room. It was tucked in the back of the house, one of those spare awkward rooms that didn’t really have a purpose. She had spent a lot of time sitting under the window in here with her sketchbook, desperately trying to figure out a way to lay it out.

Once they had decided to keep the house, Bellamy had rolled in her mom’s old piano. It was a family heirloom. Learning to play had been a tradition in their family for generations, her mom, her grandmother and all the women before them. Abby’s family was cold and formal, the only memories Clarke had of them were funerals of distant family members and galas with weird food for charities she had never heard of. Clarke had kept the piano stored away in the basement of their office, the sight of it made her feel conflicted and uncomfortable.

Part of her had wanted to sell it, but she could never bring herself to. It was laced with multiple lifetimes of memories. Some good, like Christmas eves spent playing silent night and Sunday mornings with her mom playing and her dad singing. But also, with sour memories of practicing for competitions till her fingers ached and of her mom standing over the back and tapping loudly with the metronome to ensure she was on tempo. It summed up her relationship with her mom in an oddly profound way.

Madi was knelt on the bench, tapping aimlessly and giggling at the changes in pitch. Clarke felt a heavy sting in her chest as she slid onto it beside her. This was it, the next generation sitting in front of these keys. She had never thought she would sit on this bench beside her own daughter.

“Song mommy?” Madi asked, spinning to snuggle against Clarke’s side. If there was one thing Madi loved, it was a song. Things like that sometimes made Clarke wonder about the history of it all, whether her biological parents had been artists or if they had sung to her before she was born. They would never really know for sure.

Clarke paused, toying the keys gently, just warming back up to playing. It had been years since she had let herself. She used to love the piano, had spent hours sitting on this very bench playing songs from a worn Disney music book. But after the practice logs and the score sheets had come in, she had lost her passion for it.

She let her hands rest against the keys, taking a deep breath as she wracked her brain for a song she could improvise. She closed her eyes, focusing on the rain against the window, Madi’s head in her lap and the smooth keys under the pads of her fingers.

 _“When it rains, it pours, and you didn’t even notice. It aint’ raining anymoreee. It’s hard to breathe when you know is. The struggle of, staying above—the rising water line,”_ Clarke sang, feeling the music flow through her fingers as the muscle memory of playing kicking back in.

There was something cathartic about playing, a release from all the craziness that had been happening for the past few months.

So much family history was tied into this piano, generations of motherhood. The gravity of it had never occurred to Clarke more than it did right now. From the beginning, being a mom felt fragile, she had been unsure about whether she was fit for it, worried about if the kids would like her. Then it became a question for how long it would last, when these kids who felt like her own would be ripped away. But sitting at this bench, processing her own complicated relationship with her mother, Clarke felt the weight of her own motherhood sink in.

Her legacy was cemented in the worn wood of this piano, her daughter lay beside her listening to the soft click of keys, the same way Clarke herself once had.

No matter what happened, the love she felt for these kids was laced through her veins. Motherhood wasn’t a matter of where your kids lived, whether you were dead or alive, things that had happened in the past…it was a matter of love.

_“Cause the sky has finally opened, the rain and wind stopped blown’ but you’re stuck out in the same old storm again. Let go of your umbrella, ‘cause darling I’m just trying to tell ya…that there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head. Yeah there’s always been a rainbow, hangin’ over your head.”_

The echo of the last note reverberated around the room, bouncing off the walls and settling like thick fog over the room. Clarke felt the warm weight of Bellamy’s hand against her shoulder, thumb rubbing into the soft fabric of her sweater. It was grounding, comforting.

Bellamy slid onto the bench on the other side of Madi, squishing her in the middle of them. She squealed with joy, placing a small hand on each of their thighs.

His mom had played the piano at their church. It was nothing special, just renditions of hymns, occasionally a Christmas carol. Sometimes when he had been young, before Octavia was born, she would bring him in to practice with her. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel it, the cold air of the drafty space, the reverberation of the notes against the wooden walls and the faint smell of his mom’s perfume as she placed her hands over his to teach him the notes.

It was one of those faint memories, the kind that would feel made up if they weren’t so vivid. But it sparked a visceral joy, the kind he couldn’t really even place.

Bellamy had never felt compelled to go to religious services, but whenever he missed his mom, he would go to the old church on 37th street and listen to the old woman play the piano. It didn’t quite give him the same tingling joy he used to feel when Aurora played, but it made something in his chest feel full.

As he had gotten older, the urge to go back to that old wooden church began to fade away. Until they had brought the kids home. He had lost his mom so young, he had never stopped the consider the kind of things she would miss out on. She would’ve loved to hold Madi in her lap and teach her those familiar hymns, take her to her practices in the drafty church. But she would never get the chance.

She would never meet his family, had never met Clarke. She would never know that he had found the love of his life, never get to hug his kids. The sadness of it flowed through his fingers as he played a clumsy version of Amazing Grace. It wasn’t nearly as smooth and melodic as Clarke’s practiced movements, but it filled the gap just a little. Even if his mom wasn’t here to teach Madi, the music she played would be a part of her life.

He and Octavia had always been a great team, had done the best they could and loved each other as much as two scared kids had the power to. It was always the two of them against the world. Octavia had eventually filled her life with a gaggle of friends, a husband, a house full of kids. Bellamy on the other hand gotten pretty good at being alone. This was the first time, in a long time, that it felt like he had a real family. The thought of how easily it could all fall apart, caused his fingers to make an ugly sound as they flubbed the keys.

***

Neither of them could shake the heavy feeling the afternoon had set on both of them, coupled with the rainy and grey sky, it was just one of those days. Jordan had started in on the Harry Potter books and had spent the better part of the day building a blanket fort for them to read in. He had done an impressive job, draping blankets from the backs of the couches to make a tent.

Bellamy poured a cup of melted peanut butter over a pile of Chex Mix, even if he felt a little off today, Jordan’s enthusiasm was contagious. It was the beauty of kids, they never picked up on stuff like this. Although, these kids probably understood baggage better than most. It was part of why he was determined to not let his slump seep into the day, he couldn’t put his sadness on Jordan—he was already carrying enough of his own.

“I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off,” Clarke sighed, coming up behind up and kissing his shoulder. She leaned her cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt, allowing herself to just exist in the moment.

“Honestly me too,” he agreed, grateful that he wasn’t the only one that felt impossibly weighed down.

“Maybe it’s just the weather?” she said after a long moment, squeezing him tightly before moving to hold the bag of powdered sugar for him to dump the bowl into.

“I hope so,” he smiled sadly, as much as he desperately wanted that to be true, he knew there was more to it than that.

Charlotte’s mom had been asking for more frequent visits and despite their protests, Jordan had gone to every, single one of them. It had taken them a lot of reassurance to get him to understand what was going on. He had grown less anxious about them with time, understanding that it wasn’t permanent, but it always took him a few days to go back to being his normal self. His confidence was growing, but it was fragile and the uncertainty of the situation was taking its toll.

They had to be careful with their words. It wasn’t guaranteed he would get to stay with them. It was hard to really convince him when they were barely coming to terms with it themselves.

Charlotte alternated between being thrilled about the visits and purposefully antagonizing them to get a reaction. They had both realized the pattern after the second blow out fight and made a point to not engage it. It was clear she was trying to push them away—her motivations were a little less obvious than Jordan’s and it was harder to reassure her, but they tried to support her as best as they could.

“It’s finished!” Jordan cheered, slipping into the kitchen on his socks and sliding to a stop when he hit Bellamy’s legs. “It’s really big! I think everyone can fit in it…even Oreo!”

“That’s awesome! Do you wanna go ask Madi and Charlotte if they want to join us?” he grinned, dumping the puppy chow into a bowl and laughing as Jordan slid back out.

“What do you think the odds are that this fort’s going to collapse on us while we’re in it?”

“Considering the structural integrity of your $80 throw pillows, I would guess pretty high.”

“Hey! Don’t knock my throw pillows they’re very tasteful,” Clarke huffed, pouting her lips until Bellamy leaned forward for a quick peck. Their peck melted into a soft kiss, it was simple, just a reassurance.

“Ew!!!” Madi yelled, curling up against Charlotte’s leg as she giggled. “Again!”

Clarke giggled too, wrapping her arms around Bellamy’s neck and giving him a theatrically messy kiss, before she dove forward and caught Madi across the middle, spinning her in the air. The sound of her full body laughs was enough to push some of the weight off her shoulders. Her worries were largely forgotten as they carried the giant bowl of puppy chow into the fort and crowded in together.

It was a tight fit, frankly it wasn’t really big enough for all of them, but they snuggled in together. Clarke and Bellamy curled into each other, allowing both the kids to sprawl across the laps. Surprisingly, Charlotte leaned her head against Clarke’s shoulder, wrapping her hand around her elbow lightly. It was a first and Clarke let herself press her nose to top of Charlotte’s head. She smelled like Victoria’s Secret Love Spell, her true age showing in the moment. It was rare that she allowed herself to be unguarded around them and Clarke basked in it, trying to keep her excitement from becoming too obvious.

Despite being cramped and hot, the fort was the perfect place to delve into the magic of Harry Potter. Bellamy did his best attempt at British accents, trying to keep the powdered sugar on his fingers from staining the pages. They made it almost two chapters in before the ceiling collapsed on them, spurring a wave of pillows to rain from where they had been balanced on the couch.

They were a tangle of blankets, laughs and spilled snacks as they tried to wrestle out of the waves of blankets. By the time they got out, Clarke was laughing so hard her eyes were watering. At one point, Madi had gotten lost in the sea of knit fabric and decorative pillows and had theatrically yelled until they found her.

“Your fort kind of became a nest Jordy,” Charlotte laughed, trying to even her breathing as they finally settled down.

“Cheep cheep!” Madi said excitedly, flapping her arms like chicken wings from where she was still bundled in the blankets. This spurred another wave of laughter, all of them collapsing into the massive pile of limbs. It was impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other one started, they were just a giant pile. The whole thing was beautifully mundane in a way that Clarke had learned to not take for granted.

When they had been in college, Clarke had never been one for sentimental things—she had always been too practical for it. But Octavia had always relished in them and had been hellbent on making as big of a deal out of things as possible. Whenever there was a moment that felt so right, so funny, just—perfect, she would take a mental picture. Not just metaphorically, she would literally hold her hands up like she was holding a camera and push a pretend button. Both Bellamy and Clarke had always thought it was cheesy and a little ridiculous, but oddly, a lot of her fondest memories had glimmers of the silly little tradition.

Looking around the room at their giant pile of blankets, she decided this was one of those perfect moments.

Carefully, when she was sure only Bellamy was looking at her, she held up her hands and clicked a mental picture. He smiled back warmly at her, immediately understanding what she was doing and did the motion back to her, it made her heart flutter. Mental picture or not, she knew she would remember this one.

***

The rain continued throughout the week, leaving deep puddles on the driveway and an odd sense of melancholy over the house. It had been a struggle to get the kids up in the mornings, the comfort of a warm bed was understandably more appealing that the cold, wet air outside. Bellamy tightened Jordan’s raincoat around his shoulders, smoothing down the tacky yellow fabric and ignoring the way the rain was soaking into the back of his head.

Morning had seemed to drag lately, moving almost in slow motion as they brushed hair and poured bowls of cereal.

“Love you buddy,” he said quietly, kissing the tip of Jordan’s nose as he clicked him out of his booster seat.

“Have a good day baby,” Clarke called from the front seat, waving while Jordan ran to meet his teacher at the door.

Bellamy wiggled his finger into Madi’s side, making her giggle before rounding the car and climbing back into the passenger seat. He took a deep breath, watching the windshield wipers click against the glass, pushing away sheet after sheet of rain.

They drove in complete silence, the only sound in the car was Madi softly babbling to herself about raindrops. Clarke kept her eyes steeled on the road, unsure of whether she would be able to handle herself if she let her gaze stray anywhere else. She couldn’t even look in the rearview mirror for fear of catching a glimpse of Madi’s soft, smiling face—now was the time to be strong. The words of her mom rang in her head, “chin up, eyes forward, back straight,” she had always said.

The call had come in last night, while Bellamy had been pulling a chicken pot pie out of the oven. It was a cozy night, the rain pattering against the roof, buttery warm air filling the kitchen. They had decided to eat dinner in front of the TV, the snuggle of blankets and pajamas too tempting. He had ignored the ringing, too focused on making sure that the crust was browning correctly, if it was important enough, they would leave a message. But the ringing didn’t stop, pausing for a few seconds before starting up again.

The vibrations got so grating, Clarke had answered it for him, grabbing the phone before it vibrated off the counter. She had been expecting it to be Murphy, complaining about the new tile they had ordered for the bathroom.

It wasn’t.

Anya’s voice was direct, to the point—their worst fears were coming true. Charlotte’s mom had called the foster office last week, she was changing her petition to regain custody of Jordan and Charlotte.

The rest of the night had been a blur, it had taken everything in Clarke’s willpower to keep from crying every time she looked at the kids. Bellamy wasn’t much better, his jaw tight and shoulders drawn up beside his ears.

Her façade cracked a little when they pulled into the parking lot of the foster office, they had been so happy, and in the next hour it was all going to fall apart.

“You said they were on the path to adoption,” Bellamy said sharply, clearly trying to keep himself from yelling as they sat across from Anya.

“I said they were _likely_ on the path of adoption, there’s a difference,” Anya said carefully, tone professional but face sympathetic. The sympathy looked wrong on her features, causing the knot in Clarke’s stomach to twist further. The look on Anya’s face confirmed it, this was serious.

“Is there anything we can do?” Clarke asked, scrubbing a hand over her face. The answer was already clear, but she had to at least try. She felt numb, like this couldn’t possibly be her real life.

“Not particularly, biological family usually wins in these cases. Even though Jordan is not a biological child, he’s still a blood relative. You could write a letter to the judge and try to fight this, but it’s in your best interest to not get your hopes up. The positive in this situation is that Madi’s case is a separate situation from this—”

“All due respect, please don’t try to imply that keeping one child and losing two is in any way a positive situation,” Bellamy interrupted, anger bubbling under his skin. He wanted to throw something, wanted to yell until he was blue in the face. It didn’t feel real, he kept hoping that this was a nightmare, but he wasn’t waking up. There was a mug resting on the edge of the desk and he stared at it, willing it to explode into a million pieces just from the force of his pain.

“It’s the nature of the system Mr. Blake, you knew what you were signing up for. One successful adoption is a win in my book, I know you don’t want to hear this, but some people aren’t even that lucky,” Anya said curtly, closing her blue folder with a little more force than necessary.

Clarke placed her hand around Bellamy’s bicep, squeezing firmly and rubbing her thumb against the smooth skin. She could feel his pulse in the crook of his elbow, the force of it causing the vein to push up against his skin. It was the most she could do, she felt frozen—glued to the chair.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

She focused on the motion, letting it lull her. It kept the noise out of her brain, the overwhelming heartbreak over the situation. She had shielded herself from love for so long, the fear of loss—of rejection, so sharp that it had felt almost debilitating, but she was glad she had let herself take a chance. The warm, solid assurance of Bellamy against her, was the only thing keeping her afloat. His pulse against her palm was a reminder that they were alive, that she wasn’t alone.

“How’re we going to tell Jordan? He’s going to think we’re aband—” Bellamy murmured, holding his head in his hands. His voice cracked before he could finish, tears spilling from his eyes as his shoulders shook with the force of his grief.

It was what finally pushed Clarke over the edge, she couldn’t take being strong anymore. She slid her arm around his back, hugging him close and finally letting her walls crumble down. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, wrapped around each other, sharing their grief.

***

Clarke pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven, thankfully they hadn’t burnt. They had been wracking their brains about how to tell Jordan about the custody case, but nothing felt right. Charlotte had already known, had probably talked about it with her mom beforehand, but Jordan was blissfully unaware. It was becoming too hard to keep it from him, every moment felt tinged with the knowledge that he would be packing up all his things and moving out of the house soon. The fact that their family would never be whole again.

They had finally decided that there was never going to be a good way to tell him, they just had to be honest. Clarke was desperately trying to make it less painful, she hoped that chocolate chip cookies and tall glasses of milk would somehow help soften the blow. But logically she knew that in the next hour, they were going to break Jordan’s heart. It was late evening, Charlotte and Madi were at Octavia’s and the stillness weighed heavily on Clarke as she half heartedly arranged the cookies on a plate. She should probably get used to it, this would be their reality soon.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she took a deep breath, willing them away. She had to be strong, to keep herself under control. Bellamy wasn’t going to be able to handle this if she was a mess, she needed to be steady for him.

“We just want to talk to you real quick,” Bellamy’s voice echoed through the hall, signaling to Clarke that she needed to be ready.

With her mother’s words ringing in her head, Clarke wiped away at her eyes, forcing a wide smile as Jordan came running into her arms. She gave him a tight squeeze, memorizing it and holding him close to her body.

Spotting her cookies, he wiggled out of her grip and sat across from her, immediately breaking off a piece of his cookie to dip in milk. He looked so happy, so innocent—it broke Clarke’s heart even more.

The feel of Bellamy’s arm around her shoulders grounded her, they shared a long look silently exchanging reassurances as Jordan sat clueless across from them.

With one last deep sigh, Bellamy reached out to hold Jordan’s small hand in his own and began explaining the situation in the simplest way possible. He paused often to reassure him, saying countless versions “I love you” but nothing could have prepared him for the look of betrayal that crossed Jordan’s face.

“No, no, I don’t want to. You’re my mom and dad,” he wailed, hot, wet tears sliding down his chubby face. He snatched his hand from Bellamy’s, balling himself up in the wooden chair.

“We love you so much Jordan, even if you don’t live with us, we will always be your family,” Clarke tried, standing up to place a gentle hand on his back. Bellamy was crying too, silent tears falling as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

“There’s more than one way to have a family, we’ll be able to visit you sometimes,” Bellamy agreed, trying to keep his words even.

  
“You were supposed to be my **forever** family! You lied!” Jordan screamed, ripping himself out of Clarke’s grasp and running out of the kitchen. The slap of his feet against the tile echoed through the house, punctuated by the slam of his bedroom door.

It was only at the sound of the door that Bellamy allowed himself to fully cry, Jordan’s words stabbing him in the chest. As much as he hated to admit it, he was right. They had been reckless with their assurances, made promises they couldn’t keep. He probably would never trust them again.

Clarke slid into his lap, allowing him to tuck his head in the crook of her neck. His tears soaked the shoulder of her shirt, but she held him close, pressing her lips to his hair. She was rigid, every muscle tensed in a way that immediately set off alarm bells in Bellamy’s head.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel things,” he murmured against her neck, tightening his arms around her. “You don’t have to be strong by yourself, we’re in this together.”

She nodded loosening the tension in her shoulders marginally. Clarke had this way of pushing her own feelings off to the side and focusing on everyone else, Bellamy had always been the one to bring her back to her own head, but he was so clouded by his own grief he didn’t know how to begin to understand hers. They had never gone through something like this at the same time, it was new and scary—something that a few hours sitting with her head in his lap wouldn’t fix.

“We have to fight for him,” she said finally, pulling back to meet his eyes. “He can’t think that we just let him go. He has to know we love him, that we want him.”

“Even if we lose, he has to hear it,” Bellamy agreed, twining their hands together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “We have to write that letter.”

***

Clarke pulled on the edge of the fitted sheet, desperately trying to pull the edge over the mattress. These sheets never seemed to want to stay in place, they were almost cosmically designed to be annoying. She groaned in frustration, flopping spread eagle on the bed with the crumbled sheet bunched below her. Nothing seemed to be going her way these days.

“Defeated by a sheet, what a valiant way to go down,” Bellamy chuckled, pulling the sheet gently from underneath her and moving to help.

They had moved into the master a few days ago and the space was coming together nicely. It was nice to have the extra room, and the privacy of the double doors. But the house suddenly felt too large, there were too many bedrooms, too much empty space. They would never be able to fill all of it with just three people. Once Jordan and Charlotte were gone, the upstairs would turn into a graveyard of empty bedrooms, a reminder of the life they had once had.

The sheet finally stayed in place and Clarke threw the pillows back on before they both collapsed on the fresh bed. She laid her head on Bellamy’s chest, it didn’t feel fair that they had only been able to be truly happy for what felt like a second. It had felt so good, so right and now it was just a memory.

“Even after all this, I wouldn’t change anything. I would do it all over again, for you and for them,” Clarke said softly, rubbing her hand up and down the ridges of Bellamy’s stomach.

“Me either,” he agreed, kissing her hair softly. “I love you and I love our kids and nothing a judge says is going to change that.”

Clarke buried her face in his shirt, just breathing him in. His words brought back the stress of the letter, the weight of what was coming for them. They had spent the last few nights staying up late, a legal pad propped in Bellamy’s lap, trying to fit all the love they had for Jordan and Charlotte into a single page. They had started with seven and whittled it down to five but had gotten stuck at three. Everything seemed important, they had to make them feel loved, had to show them what this time had meant to them.

The sleepless nights were starting to catch up to her though, a wave of exhaustion washing over her limbs and the woodsy smell of Bellamy’s skin comforting her. He ran a hand through her hair, massaging her scalp. It was so comforting, being held like this. She felt safe, happy…aside from the ever-present gnawing at the bottom of her stomach.

“I feel like we should go check on Jordan,” she groaned, pulling herself away from Bellamy’s chest before she fell asleep. “I found him sleeping under his bed last night.”

“I hate what this is doing to him,” he replied, sliding off the side of the bed and hauling her up. The sting of guilt that had been weighing on him amplified, he wished there was something they could do, some way they could take away some of his hurt.

Sure enough, Jordan was lying under the bed with only his feet sticking out far enough for them to see. Anya said it was a self-defense mechanism, a way for him to feel secure but the sight of it made Clarke’s heart ache.

Gently, they coaxed him out, convincing him to snuggle back into his bed with the promise of a few chapters of Harry Potter. He had insisted on the top bunk and it was a tight fit, Bellamy was shoved against the wall, trying to keep himself from falling through the crack and Clarke was pushed up against the guardrail, the hard ridges of the wood digging into her spine. It was the farthest thing from comfortable, but it was the happiest Jordan had seemed in a few days.

Clarke flipped off the lights and Bellamy read softly under the shine of a flashlight. From their height, the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling illuminated their faces, adding to the magic.

The story was sweet, nostalgic, Bellamy could feel Jordan falling asleep beside him. Snuggled up like this, the three of them, he took in the whole moment. They had laid like this hundreds of times, but he had never really taken the time to appreciate it. 


	10. Balance in a crazy world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise if you manage to get through the angst you won't want to stab me anymore. 
> 
> Inspired by: Forever Young by Bob Dylan

Forever 21 was a neon yellow, disorganized disaster. Impossibly small clothes lay ripped from their hangers and strewn across the floor, draped on the shelves and stuffed in odd corners. Clarke winced as she pulled a clear, plastic cropped raincoat from the shelf, it read “Taco time” on the pocket. She was definitely too old for this store.

Charlotte wandered aimlessly, running her finger across the racks and collecting an armful of floral dresses. She needed a new one for court. Normally, Clarke would’ve let her go on her own, but they had been trying to spend as much time with the kids as possible. Their relationship with Charlotte was weird, somewhere between older siblings and awkward parental figures but despite the fighting, it was staggering how much Clarke loved her.

The thought of losing her was different than losing Jordan. It was stressful, like an unmistakable itch under her skin. Where Jordan made her feel helpless and heartbroken, the thought of Charlotte leaving made her feel deeply uncomfortable. So much of Charlotte reminded Clarke of herself. Clarke’s mother had reached the point of no return at a much older age than Charlotte’s, but Clarke knew the pain of it well. There were so many times where Clarke had hoped that Abby would choose her over the pain medication, but it never happened. Addiction was a powerful disease, the effects of it spanning far past the people it directly affected. Charlotte already had so much hardness etched into her soft, young features, so much distrust in the hunch of her narrow shoulders. The thought of her experiencing any more was enough to make Clarke feel nauseous.

Charlotte actually looked her age as she spun in a buttercup yellow dress in front of the mirror, blonde curls whipping against her back. Suppressing the urge to tear up, Clarke slid a fluffy cream sweater over her shoulders, covering the halter neck.

“You look beautiful,” she smiled, smoothing down the fabric.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know that right?” Charlotte said, meeting Clarke’s gaze in the mirror and giving her a soft smile in return.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Charlotte in a hug. It was rare that she articulated her feelings like this, and Clarke didn’t want to ruin it by talking too much. She funneled everything she wanted to say into the hug, resting her chin on Charlotte’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

There was a glimmer of tears in Charlotte’s eyes before she turned quickly towards the dressing room and disappeared behind the door.

“It’s cool that you and your daughter are so close,” a random employee smiled at her as she cleared a nearby dressing room.

Clarke wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry at the comment. She didn’t really even know where to start, so she just smiled weakly and watched as the girl walked away. Her jeans had a patch on the butt that said, “peach party,” and at that moment, Clarke decided she was never coming back to this store.

They checked out quickly and re-entered the buzz of the mall. Through the throng of the crowd, she spotted Bellamy’s mop of hair by the pretzel cart.

Jordan ran to her as they approached, waving a cardboard box in the air. He had half a pretzel stuffed in his mouth, muffling his words.

“I got a build-a-bear for Madi and we put my voice in it! And then dad helped her make one for me! It says, ‘I love you Jordy!’” he yelled excitedly, spraying small bits of pretzel onto Clarke as he talked and waved his cardboard box around.

She smiled, ignoring the flecks of pretzel and reaching out to smooth back Jordan’s hair. It was turning into a wild mop like Bellamy’s but without the curls. It was nice to see him so happy, he had been so withdrawn since they had told him the news. They had spent days coaxing him out of his room, holding him, assuring him. Clarke wasn’t sure how much of it he had really processed, but he seemed to be holding up better.

“The bears were a good call,” she said, pulling off a piece of Bellamy’s pretzel as she bumped her shoulder against his.

“They’ve never been apart,” he answered sadly, looking over to where Jordan was patiently ripping off small pieces of pretzel for Madi to eat. It was a glimmer of what their lives had looked like before Bellamy and Clarke, they had always taken care of each other, always had each other. They weren’t the only ones losing them, Madi was losing both her siblings at the same time and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

***

“I’m tired of being sad,” Clarke sighed, pumping her arms a little harder to keep pace with Bellamy. His stride was a lot longer and she was struggling to keep up with his jog.

“I jumped from sad to angry a long time ago,” Bellamy answered, adjusting his stride to allow for Clarke to slow down.

“But angry at what? Charlotte’s mom wants her daughter and nephew back, we can’t fault her for that…and as standoffish as she can be, Anya is just doing her job.”

“I don’t know…the universe?” he admitted, picking up his pace into a near sprint. Clarke raced beside him, her legs burning and her heart thudding in her ears. It felt good to focus on something other than their impending doom. “It’s not fair.”

“I hate this,” she grunted, collapsing into the grass when they reached the edge of the trail. The house was still visible in the distance, covered by the long reeds and wildflowers. She tipped her head back, watching the clouds sweep through the bright blue sky. It was a perfect day, light breeze, warm sun—she wished she could just stay here forever, hide from her problems in the tall grass.

“I just wanted them to have better than we did.”

“Maybe they still will?”

“You and I both know how hard recovery is…Charlotte’s mom has a long road ahead of her. I’m sure she’s a good mom, a great mom even, but it’s a lot to handle. The whole thing just makes me nervous,” Bellamy sighed, leaning his head against Clarke’s shoulder.

“I hope for everyone’s sake it works out, the thought of anything else happening to them—” she began, voice catching at the thought. She pressed her cheek against Bellamy’s curls, nudging her nose into the crown of his head. He smelled warm and familiar; it was instantly comforting.

Bellamy reached out to take her hand, kissing the ridge of her knuckles. The past few days had felt like a lifetime, but lying here next to Clarke, he felt good.

“We should enjoy this time,” he said against her knuckles, shifting so that he was curled into her neck. “We can be angry and sad and guilty after all is said and done, but we only have a couple days left as a family and I’ll be damned if we spend it moping around.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” she agreed, squeezing her arms around him tightly, “we might as well enjoy it.”

***

Clarke and Bellamy sat on the front porch with Madi sandwiched between them, all three dressed in oversized flannel shirts. They shared a smile as the yellow school bus crunched up to the driveway and Jordan came running out, arms spread wide as he sprinted down the driveway. Bellamy felt a surge of pride as they watched him, he was so much more confident, so sure of himself. It showed even in the way he walked, his chin was up, posture sure…it was a far cry from the nervous accident-prone kid they had first met.

“Welcome to camp Griffin-Blake,” Clarke cheered, holding up a stick with a marshmallow on it as Jordan approached.

“You are in for a very fun weekend,” Bellamy agreed, pulling one of his own flannels over Jordan’s shoulders.

“Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!” Madi added, jumping up from her spot to run up and down the driveway. Clarke wasn’t sure if she actually knew what camping was, but the enthusiasm was adorable all the same.

Jordan and Madi played in the front yard, pretending to be cowboys and rolling around in the grass until a silver car pulled up and Charlotte finally appeared. She looked stunned to see them all sitting out front like this, approaching slowly with her eyebrows knit together.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head as she took in the matching flannels and the marshmallow stick.

“We’re having ourselves a weekend. A **positive** , fun-filled weekend,” Bellamy grinned widely, standing up and handing her a flannel before throwing an arm around Charlotte as he led her around the house. She shot an incredulous look back at Clarke but didn’t protest, silently shrugging on the oversized shirt.

Clarke corralled Jordan and Madi, following Bellamy out back. They had spent the rest of the afternoon setting up the backyard. A circle of tents sat in the middle of the grass, surrounded by a row of sleeping bags. They had set out coolers, the firepit was framed with fluffy pillows and there was an entire table of themed food laid out with little labels.

“This is a new level of goofy, even for you,” Charlotte sighed, picking up a cupcake that Clarke had decorated to look like a campfire.

“It’s chocolate,” Clarke smiled, picking up a mason jar of bug juice and handing it to Jordan. Sure, they might have gone a little overboard, but she wanted to make this special. This had to be a weekend they would remember forever.

“Is this a birthday?” Jordan asked wide-eyed, looking around the backyard as he chewed absently on an ‘Ant on a Log’.

“Nope buddy, just special family time,” Clarke assured, bending down to bop his nose.

Before she could explain further, there was a roar of screams as Octavia’s kids all came barreling around the corner. Justin made a beeline for Jordan, tackling him to the ground in his excitement.

“This is…very you,” Lincoln chuckled, picking up a Mason jar and taking a long sip while he took in the theme and the activities.

“Wait till you see this scavenger hunt I planned,” Bellamy grinned, waving a clipboard in the air as he corralled the kids around him. Octavia quickly followed, crouching down to help the kids read their lists. Within minutes, Octavia and Bellamy had somehow managed to form teams and turned what was supposed to be a friendly game into a competitive brawl.

As the Blake siblings ran around with the kids, looking for the toys and notes Bellamy had hidden earlier in the day, Clarke and Lincoln shifted to the kitchen to make dinner.

“I won the pool on you and Bellamy getting together,” Lincoln said matter-of-factly, laying lasagna noodles into a shallow glass dish.

Clarke snorted, pausing her stirring to look at Lincoln incredulously, “You guys placed bets on us?!”

“You’re kidding right?! It started freshman year…we just kept adjusting our bets. We were really hoping you would figure it out before one of us had to put money on you banging after a nursing home mixer,” he shrugged, shifting to allow Clarke to layer the meat into the dish.

“What?! There’s no way…”

“I won on ‘Bellamy losing it and botching it endearingly’, Octavia had you confessing it during a fight and Murphy guessed you guys would have a full-on platonic wedding before you finally admitted it,” he said smugly, laying on the final layer of noodles before leaning back against the counter. “My personal favorite of all time was Raven’s guess of a rom-com style airport confession when you went abroad. She had this whole thing about Bellamy leaving his girlfriend behind—”

“Hold on, these bets were going on even while we were dating other people?”

Lincoln softened at that, smiling at her warmly before turning to look through the kitchen window. Bellamy had very seriously gathered his team into a huddle, their heads tucked together while they whispered about something. Clarke melted at the sight, he really was a born dad.

“We all knew it was always going to be the two of you. Somehow…somewhere, you guys were always going to find your way to each other,” he said softly, brushing past her to put the finished lasagna into the oven.

Clarke leaned against the counter, resting her elbows on the cool granite. Everyone had known except them. They had wasted so much time, done everything backward. It just felt like they couldn’t catch a break, their entire lives had been putting out one fire after another. Their friendship had started with Jasper’s hair on fire and here they were now, using a campfire to dull the ache of their family being torn apart.

“You guys are going to survive this,” Lincoln assured, squeezing Clarke’s shoulder.

She looked back out the window at Bellamy as he ran across the length of the yard with Jordan on his back. She loved him so much. As much as she was scared and heartbroken, she knew Lincoln was right. They were going to make it through this, it was going to get better eventually. Things would never be the same, but maybe they could find a new normal.

“Daddy, I hafta go potty,” Claire’s small voice called from the door, her knees muddy from the grass and her pigtails sliding out.

Lincoln gave Clarke’s arm one last squeeze before he turned to address his daughter. Clarke smiled, watching their retreating forms as she slid out of the empty kitchen and back into the fresh air.

“Mom, mom, guess what?! We had a tie!” Jordan panted, colliding directly with Clarke’s legs as he ground to a halt in front of her.

Clarke lifted him up off the floor, arms now adjusted to lifting the seven-year-old up and down. It still wasn’t exactly easy, but her arms didn’t burn anymore. She held him close, breathing in the smell of clean air and dirt as he rambled about their game. The sun was setting, leaving the sky a milky orange and she tightened the oversized flannel around his narrow body, protecting him from the chill.

As much as her heart ached, she was glad they had done this. It was like a weight had lifted. It was nice to hear laughter, to see the kids smile. She was glad they would have one last good memory as a family, something big. There were so many things she wished they had had time for, Disney World…the beach. But as she watched Octavia lead a disorganized game of red rover, this little campsite in their backyard felt like the best place on earth.

The sun slipped fully out of the sky, coating the yard in darkness. Clarke taught the kids how to catch lightning bugs in their palms, cupping them in a way that allowed for their glow to show through the cracks of their fingers.

They caught the glimmering bugs in between bites of dinner, not bothering to sit down. Their excitement was palatable as their bare feet pressed into the cool grass, giggles drifting through the air as they raced to catch the glowing yellow dots. The hum of crickets sounded around them, the perfect background to the cool spring evening.

Bellamy took a deep breath through his nose, relishing in the cold sting of the air as he built a small fire. A single wisp of soft grey smoke curled up, spreading among the warm glow of the stars. Clarke came up behind him, her old guitar in one hand. It was covered in stickers from their favorite coffee shop and random stores around Arkadia, a relic from a different time. Seeing her like this, flannel handing off her shoulders with a guitar dangling by her side, it was like they were back in college. If he squinted, he could almost pretend she still had a pink streak among her blonde curls. It had felt like a lifetime since he had seen this carefree side of her.

He moved to sit beside her as she strummed, the notes warming the air as they disappeared into the night. Madi crawled into his lap and soon enough they had formed a tight circle around the fire. Nobody spoke, they all just listened to the gentle flow of notes cut through the darkness. He stole a glance at Octavia through the flickering, red heat of the fire. They had dreamed of this when they were young, of a big family to spend weekends with, of running around and playing games.

She looked up just in time to meet his gaze, smiling at him softly as she rested her head on top of Claire’s. He knew she was thinking of it too, the times they had spent huddled around a single candle when their power had gotten turned off, waiting for their mom to come home from work. They had done good, even though he hadn’t been able to protect them from everything, they had done right by their kids. He hoped desperately as he watched the flames that Jordan and Charlotte would never know what it was like to sit in a dark room with only a candle for comfort, that they would forever look at the flicker of flames and remember this night.

The strum of a familiar tune filled the air, shaking him from his thoughts. He couldn’t quite place where he knew it from, but it felt comforting and warm. He rubbed a hand down Madi’s back, tilting his head to watch Clarke as she stared intently at the strings. She looked up, meeting his gaze briefly before shifting to look at Jordan, who was curled beside her legs.

 _“May God’s blessings keep you always, may your wishes all come trueee, may you always do for others and let others do for you,”_ she sang softly, the hum of the guitar complimenting her voice perfectly. Bellamy’s breath caught in his throat as the memory clicked together, he fought back the nostalgic tears as the song sunk into his skin.

He stared at her in awe, watching as she poured her soul into the song. She was so beautiful when she sang, a gentle, maternal smile spreading across her face as her gaze flicked from Charlotte to Madi to Jordan.

_“May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. And may you stay, forever youngggg.”_

Clarke’s heart tightened as Jordan wrapped a hand around her calf, hugging her leg close to his body. She thought back to the first time she had sung this song, the lyrics rusty, tinged with painful memories of her own father. The words hadn’t really sunk in then, but they did now. She finally understood why her dad had always hummed these words to her quietly, while she was curled in his chest in their worn leather recliner. He would’ve loved this, the kids, the campfire. It was her way of keeping his memory alive, of giving her kids something of hers to hold on to. She hoped that even if all the other memories faded away, one day, they would pull this song from the dusty corners of their memories and remember their time as a family.

 _“May your hearts always be joyful, may your song always be sunggggg and may you stayyy forever young,”_ she finished, a stray tear rolling down her cheek as she strummed the final notes.

The only noise as the song ended were the crickets, humming evenly into the night, calling to one another from across the grass. Octavia had wet tracks across her cheeks, her heart breaking for two of the most loving and deserving parents she had ever met.

***

As much as Bellamy had wanted to hold on to their weekend forever, it eventually drew to a close. He stared at Charlotte as she picked at her pancakes, rolling a blueberry across her plate like a marble. He couldn’t blame her, he didn’t really feel like eating either.

Clarke bent to adjust Jordan’s tie one last time, the weight of their letter like lead in her pocket. The joy from the weekend felt far away, like a distant memory, even though it was only yesterday.

Charlotte had worn the yellow dress they had picked out, combined with the blue sky and light breeze, it was an odd contrast for such a heavy day. They ate breakfast in silence, the only sound the harsh scrape of forks against ceramic plates. The quiet really emphasized the size of the house, it felt immense, suffocating. Sitting in the kitchen she had once loved, Clarke looked around. This wasn’t the dream home she had once thought, it was too big, too drafty, too remote. The silence echoed off the stark white walls, surrounding her, crushing her.

It was a relief to step outside, to be free of the white granite and cool clean lines of the furniture. She thought of the giant chalkboard they had only used for scribbles and the impractical tile in the bathroom that seemed to always be splashed with water. She reached out to twine her hand in Bellamy’s thinking back to the realization she had made in an empty courtyard at midnight in Paris. Home wasn’t a place; it was a person.

The drive to the courthouse was quick, their morning a flurry of paperwork, sharply dressed people with stoic faces and the warm smiles of their friends sitting in the benches of the courtroom. Bellamy and Clarke weren’t really part of the trial, relegated to the front bench while Jordan and Charlotte stood alone before the judge.

Their mother stood on the other side, she looked different than Clarke had imagined. Her name was Georgia and she had long blonde hair just like Charlotte. She looked tired, her hair pulled into a haphazard knot and her nailbeds chewed to the point of bleeding. The heels on her feet looked worn, and she tipped her feet to the side in a way that indicated she was uncomfortable wearing them. Every instinct she had made Clarke want to dislike her, but she couldn’t. She really looked like someone who was trying their best, someone who had put their pride aside to wear shoes she didn’t like and an outfit that had clearly been worn by many people before her.

They had something in common after all, they were both mothers to the same kids. This woman wasn’t trying to ruin her family, she was trying to do right by her kids. As much as Clarke didn’t like it, she understood it.

Bellamy couldn’t bring himself to look at Georgia, he knew what consignment store suits looked like, knew the dark bags of someone who worked nightshifts. Her hair was lighter, and her build was shorter, but she resembled his mother so strongly it almost made him feel sick. He chanced a look at Octavia from across the room and saw her eyes steeled to the ground, her knuckles white against the chair in front of her.

The trial was short and perfunctory. The judge was an old bearded man with kind eyes, he had smiled warmly at Jordan and Charlotte, asked the bailiff to ensure Jordan got an extra stuffed bear.

“I see you’ve been sober for almost two months,” he said to Charlotte’s mom. “That’s excellent, congratulations. Have you been able to find a job?”

“Yes sir, I work as a waitress at a diner. It’s not the best hours but it’s enough to pay for an apartment,” Georgia said nervously, bunching the overly long sleeves of her suit jacket in her palms.

“Do you feel that you are able to responsibly care for your daughter and nephew at this time? That you can provide them with a sense of stability?”

She looked down at the table for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes shifting from her clasped hands to the judge and finally to Jordan and Charlotte. Charlotte smiled encouragingly, face so hopeful that it was almost painful. But the silence continued as Georgia seemed almost frozen in place, chewing on the side of her finger. Charlotte’s face dropped at her mother’s uncertainty, her posture adjusting into a rigid line as all the hope visibly faded.

“Yes sir,” she said finally, voice soft and a bit unsteady.

The judge asked a few more questions, nodding politely at her answers, seemingly pleased. Bellamy’s stomach flipped nervously, waiting for the portion where they would need to speak. It was nearing, he could tell by the way the judge’s questions were shortening. Finally, Georgia sat back down, and the judge read from a sheet of off-white paper.

“The foster parents, Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake would like to make a statement. They have established that in the event that the children are unable to be cared for by their biological family, they are willing and able to take them back into their home. This would effectively make you secondary guardians. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir,” Clarke said shakily, standing with the folded paper in her hands. It shook between her fingers, making a soft rustling sound and she tried to unfold the page. At the sight of her own loopy handwriting, her eyes filled with tears. The words swirled in front of her, blurry and out of focus. Bellamy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gently taking the letter from her hands. This wasn’t what they had planned, Clarke had always been the steady one, the person who held them both together. Bellamy wasn’t used to this, but he had to be strong, to put his heart aside. This wasn’t about him, it was about Jordan and Charlotte…and Clarke.

“Clarke and I both don’t have much family left…at least not in the traditional sense, we learned from a pretty young age that family isn’t about where you’re born, it’s about who chooses to love you every day. Family is about sacrifices, reading stories in the dark, dancing in the kitchen, holding each other when you cry and being there for each other no matter what. The time we’ve spent with you has been the most beautiful and fulfilling time of our lives, we are so grateful that you chose us, that you allowed us to be your parents, even if it was only for a short time,” Bellamy began voice cracking as he read, but he held strong, taking a deep breath before he kept going. “Thank you for the pillow fights, the bedtime stories, the hugs, and kisses—”

His voice shook as he kept reading and as much as he tried to steady himself, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to keep the emotion from spilling out, the weight of the words too much for him to process. Clarke wrapped a hand gently around his bicep, sliding it down slowly to ease the paper from his hands. She wrapped her fingers around his, reminding him that they were in this together, that he wasn’t alone.

She skipped over a few lines; she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to hold it together long enough to get through the full letter.

“Jordan, you are so gentle, thoughtful and intentional. You have one of the biggest hearts I have ever known, you remind me so much of Bellamy with your thoughtful ways and thirst for knowledge. But you are also so strong, so brave and so loved. Don’t ever forget that you matter, that you deserve to take up space, that you have accomplished so much and are meant to do amazing things. Charlotte, you remind me so much of myself, I’m not really sure if that’s a compliment or not, but you have more wisdom than I could ever dream of. You are bound to do incredible things too. I have never met someone so resilient, so headstrong and so wonderfully herself. Don’t let anyone convince you to change who you are and don’t forget it’s okay to be a little soft sometimes. Even in our dorkiest moments, I hope you know that we love you more than you could ever know, and we always, always will. Family is forever, no matter where you live…and you both will always be a part of ours.”

Clarke knew her eyes were welled with tears, but she held strong, keeping her eyes locked with Jordan and Charlotte as they both stared at her. Jordan sprinted around the bench, rounding the divider to hug Bellamy and Clarke’s legs. They bent, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I love you’s into his ear. Charlotte approached slowly, putting a hand on Jordan’s shoulder and carefully pulling him away.

“I love you too,” she said quietly to them both, taking Bellamy’s hand and squeezing gently as she led Jordan back to the table.

The judge gave them a moment to collect themselves, looking at Bellamy and Clarke sadly as he shuffled papers in his hands.

“There are no real winners in family court, you two are very lucky to have so many people who love you. The goal of the foster system is to encourage reunification with biological family members when possible. Ms. Macintyre, you have demonstrated a reasonable effort at rehabilitation and I, therefore, grant you custody conditional on your adherence to the requirements set forth by your parole,” he said regrettably, forcing a smile as he read off the sheet. “Ms. Griffin, Mr. Blake, DCFS will be contacting you in the upcoming days with logistics of custodial transfer. Until an appropriate transfer plan is determined, Charlotte and Jordan will remain in your care.”

Clarke felt her ears fill with white noise, it felt like a bomb had gone off in her brain. She knew that this was coming, had been trying to prepare herself from this, but nothing could have braced her for those words. The only sound in the courtroom was the bang of the judge’s gavel and the quiet murmur of people standing up behind them.

The world moved in slow motion at Anya led the kids out of the room. Octavia put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, but she barely registered it, it felt like she had been shot.

***

Clarke sank into the hot water, allowing it to unknot the tight coil of her muscles. The past week had been the worst of her entire life.

From the moment they had left the courthouse, it had been a whirlwind of calls with Anya and preparing the kids to leave. She had felt numb, like she was a stranger in her own body and Bellamy didn’t seem much better off. They had been trying to hold it together, but sometimes the difficulty of it got to be overwhelming.

Jordan had been a wreck, alternating between hiding under his bed and clinging to his books and sobbing. He had tried to pack his entire bookcase into the suitcase, crying about how there would be nobody to do the voices like Bellamy. Charlotte had completely shut down, pulling up the hard walls they had worked so long to soften. She barely spoke to them, a ghost of the vibrant person she had been a week ago. Clarke almost longed for her to yell, to react, the stillness of it was unsettling.

Things would never be the same, but she was trying to come to terms with it. There wasn’t anything they could do or anything they could’ve done to prevent this.

She had been repeating a mantra she had learned when she had taken her mom to Narcotics Anonymous, “grant me the power to accept the things I cannot change, change the things I cannot accept and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Back was she was twenty-two, it had seemed like a dumb platitude, just a way of helping her mother get better. But now, she understood. It was a means of survival. If she was going to keep going, keep breathing, she needed to accept this. They had to be okay for Madi, couldn’t let this consume them.

She leaned into the hard wall of Bellamy’s chest and tipped her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind. This was a worse heartbreak than she had ever experienced before, it was like her limbs were being torn apart. The only comfort she had was Bellamy, she was so grateful to have him in this, there was no way she would’ve survived without him.

Bellamy bracketed his arms around her, trailing his fingers up and down her wet arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It wasn’t sexual, just comforting, like he was reminding her that he was there, right behind her.

“What’s your happy place?” he asked, playing with her fingers in the water. “Like when you feel really sad, where does your brain go?”

Clarke contemplated his question, studying his face from the side. Her brain went immediately to the memories of reading to Jordan in his bed, singing with Madi, of Charlotte’s unsure gestures of affection. But that probably wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I think it’s changed a lot in this past year…almost all of mine have to do with the kids and it just makes this hurt worse.”

“What about before this?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, sighing deeply as she realized that her life before this seemed almost unrecognizable.

“Do you remember that one Christmas, where it snowed two feet overnight and all the planes were grounded? It didn’t really matter since none of us had anywhere to go…so we all squished together on those gross couches me and Miller got from Goodwill and watched all the Star Wars movies…” he chuckled, the rumble of it vibrating through the skin of Clarke’s back.

“And we didn’t have anything in the fridge, so we just ate cereal straight out of the box and those weird Jellybeans Raven used to keep in her purse,” she continued, tracing circles on the damp skin of his knee where it stuck out of the water as her heart warmed at the memory.

“You fell asleep with your head on my shoulder and I just remember thinking it was the best Christmas I had had in a long time.”

Clarke’s heart fluttered, the hazy memory of being pressed against Bellamy’s side as snow drifted outside the window filtering back to her slowly. His words, the vulnerability of it, made her feel bold.

“Okay my turn,” she said quietly, continuing the patterns against his skin. “Do you remember when I called you while I was abroad? I was drunk and lonely, all I wanted was to get on a plane and cry the entire way home. But the second I heard your voice—I knew everything was going to be okay. I laid in the tiny courtyard outside our hotel, in the grass, staring up at the stars and wondering whether you could see the same ones I could. It was that moment, I knew that I loved you…you made everything feel okay and somehow, you just did it again.”

Bellamy was silent for a beat before he cupped her jaw and tilted her mouth to fit against his. They kissed slowly, deliberately, the weight of thousands of shared memories sitting between them. She pulled away slowly, pressing one last kiss to his lips as she curled into his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

They sat like that until the bubbles disappeared and the water turned cold, leaving a chill on her skin. But she didn’t want to get out. For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. Not a grieving mother or a frantic mess. At this moment, sitting in the cold bathtub, they were just Bellamy and Clarke.

It was the way things had always been, they had always taken care of each other. Lincoln’s words in the kitchen came back to her, echoing in her head as she climbed out of the tub. They had always been so close, just narrowly missing, their stories were proof of it, evidence of love before she had even understood it was there. Everyone had known except for them. She had been so blind, her stubbornness standing in the way of her own happiness for so long.

If there was one thing this situation had taught her, it was that nothing was for certain. They had spent so much time being afraid when they could’ve been living. She was done wasting time, done being tied down by her fear.

The ends of her curls hung wetly against her worn t-shirt as she sat on the edge of the bed. She watched as Bellamy rubbed a towel against his hair, pushing it back so it sat slicked against his head. He looked exactly like he had the day she had met him, grey sweatpants and gelled back hair and it was the final push she needed.

“Marry me, Bellamy,” she blurted out, heart beating so loudly that she could barely hear her own thoughts.

His eyes widened, the towel falling slowly from his grip as he turned to face her.

“I know its crazy, but everything about this is crazy. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to adopt Madi and just enjoy whatever time we have left. We’ve wasted so much time being scared, and I don’t want to waste any more,” she rambled, words pressing together as he continued to stare at her blankly.

After what felt like hours of silence, he started to laugh. His shoulders shook as his smile took over his whole face, laughter wracking his entire body. Clarke was confused, this hadn’t exactly been the reaction she had been expecting. She felt embarrassment heat her cheeks as he finally straightened, running a hand through his hair. Words of irritation bubbled in her chest, but they caught in the throat as he strode across the room and reached into the bedside table to produce a red velvet box.

“I had a whole thing planned, but then—everything just went to hell. I guess it wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t a little unconventional,” he chuckled, turning the box in his hands. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. You’re my best friend, the love of my life. I would be honored to marry you, but only if you agree to marry me too,” he continued, lowering himself onto one knee and flipping open the box to reveal a simple, circle diamond on a platinum band.

Clarke couldn’t help the giggle that spilled out as happy tears filled her eyes. She had never expected for them to get here, never thought that in the middle of all this sadness, they would manage to make the best of it.

She had spent years waiting for him to say these words to her, imagining all the possibilities. But now, he was, kneeling in front of her wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, surrounded by wet towels during one of the worst weeks of her life. It was nothing like she had ever expected and yet, it was perfect.

It didn’t matter when they did it, or how, it just mattered that he wanted to be with her as badly as she wanted to be with him. She was going to get to spend the rest of her life with this wonderful man.

“It’s perfect, you’re perfect. I want to marry you more than anything,” she said finally, beaming as he surged up and kissed her so hard it made her head spin. They fell backward onto the bed with the force of it, just kissing and laughing. He pulled back just slightly, sliding the ring onto her finger and pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

Clarke looked up at his smiling face, surging up to kiss him again. She had found her new happy place, and she never wanted to leave.


	11. Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to Ohohno for her continued support from the beginning :)

When Clarke was in high school, right after her dad died, she had spent almost all her time in her family’s shed. It was far away from the main house, tucked in the back corner of their property. The small building was cold and dingy, home to the gardening tools and lawnmowers with spider webs strewn in the corners and across the ceiling. But there was something peaceful about it, the floor was smooth concrete, a wide expanse of blank grey for her to explore.

She had spent hours hunched on that blank grey floor, drawing landscapes and portraits, filling the grey with rough dark wisps of charcoal. It was mindless, the hard ground made her knees ache and the charcoal turned her fingers black. There was something beautiful about the silence there, the solitude. It wasn’t like the painful dinners with her and her mother sitting on opposite ends of the table or like the emptiness of her father’s office, this was the kind of silence that finally set her brain at peace.

Kneeling on that concrete floor, she had spent a lot of time considering how the world would end. Movies always made it seem like it would be a huge bang, an almost romantic explosion leaving nothing in its wake. But as she drew complex swirls and streams of water, she came to realize that the world ended in small ways almost every day. Every hour, every minute, something happened in someone’s life that almost completely ended their world. Sometimes it was cathartic, a fresh start but other things were unrecoverable—apocalyptic. Some things you came back from, and some things you didn’t…and she wasn’t sure what made the difference.

The guilt her mother was facing, knowing she was responsible for Jake’s death, that was a world-ending moment. Clarke would never forget the look on Abby’s face when the casket closed when she finally understood that her desire for power was what had led to this. The seconds before that moment was the last time Abby seemed whole. It had scared Clarke at the time, made her wonder if she would ever encounter something that shattered her world so profoundly, if she would ever have her apocalyptic moment.

After she had left for college, her hours in the garage had faded to the back of her memory. She had found friendship, family, and love outside of her home and that had helped keep her afloat when her mom spiraled out of control. It wasn’t until she was back at her childhood home, after her mother’s funeral that she remembered her drawings.

The real estate agent had been horrified by them, understandably so, it was like a scene from a beautiful mind with swirling landscapes and disembodied heads. She and Bellamy had spent hours washing away the charcoal with a hose, turning her once seemingly profound thoughts into no more than an inky black swirl. He hadn’t asked any questions, just taken off his shoes and socks and gotten to work. It wasn’t much, a small gesture in the grand scheme of their experiences, but just like that…her world-ending moment hadn’t seemed so world-ending anymore.

Her and Bellamy had always silently understood each other. He was the only person that Clarke had ever been able to truly experience comfortable silence with. They had filled in each other’s terrible, world-ending moments, kept them from turning into explosions.

In the minutes after the trial, Clarke had thought she had finally found it—her apocalypse. The world as she knew it was ending and it would never be the same. But just as they always had, Bellamy had pulled her out from the pit, brought back the piece of her that made her feel like herself. It seemed in a sense; she had done the same for him.

Clarke spun her engagement ring around on her finger as she stared at the charcoal sketch on the kitchen table. Maybe her high school self had been right about world-ending moments happening every day. This wasn’t the cathartic kind of end, the kind that brought the beauty of a new beginning. Losing the kids was the kind of thing that had the potential to be her apocalypse—and maybe if she had been alone, it would’ve been. But she and Bellamy had each other, they had fourteen years of love to fall back on. Maybe they would never be the same again, but they would be okay. Maybe not now, maybe not for a long time—but this wasn’t the end. She hoped, that if they had each other, she would never find out what her apocalypse was.

“That’s…beautiful,” Bellamy murmured, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder. She had sketched out their faces, all five of them squished together. It hadn’t felt like enough to give Jordan a photo, it had to be something more personal, something tangible to remember this time.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she sighed, brushing her thumb around the edges lightly, smudging the hard lines into something softer.

“He’s going to love it,” he assured, rubbing his thumbs into her shoulders as he stared at the picture. Being like this with Clarke always sent a rush of thrill down his spine, like he constantly had to remind himself this was real life. The excitement of their engagement mixed with the devastating disbelief of what was happening had been hard to swallow. It was an odd mix of emotions and he sometimes wondered whether all their happy moments would be tinged with Jordan and Charlotte’s absence from now on.

“I don’t think I have any tears left,” Clarke admitted, pushing the drawing off to the side so she could face him fully. “I needed to remember something happy.”

“Thankfully we have a lot of mental pictures to look back on.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you…I realized yesterday that my thumb is covering half of them and you’re blinking in the other half,” she said seriously, face twisting apologetically.

Bellamy paused, processing her words for a moment before letting out a deep laugh. It felt good, cut through the air sharply, breaking the weight that had been lingering all day. Clarke joined him and they laughed to the point of hysteria—at what was admittedly a bad joke. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, catching him off guard as the laughter finally faded away. It felt out of place, a happy tear. But it also felt like a sign of hope, that even when it seemed like the world might end, they could still laugh together, still bring themselves to smile.

He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear as he caught his breath, pausing to wipe away the smudge of charcoal on her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch, leaning her cheek into his palm. His heart fluttered at the gesture, finding a way to squeeze past the heartbreak to accommodate the gravity of his love for her.

“You are my favorite person in the entire world,” Clarke sighed, opening her eyes to meet his. Bellamy had this way of looking at her that was so soft, so fond, that it made her melt and looking at him right now, was enough to cause her knees to buckle.

“No one has ever compared to you princess,” he murmured, bringing up his other hand to cup her jaw as he kissed her softly.

It was like her body came to life as she kissed him back, pulling him toward her until he was almost pressing her up against the table. He covered her body with his, the edge of the table digging into his hip, but he didn’t really care. He needed to keep kissing her, right now, it was the most important thing in the world.

“We can’t have sex on the kitchen table,” Clarke groaned, knocking her head back against the dark wood.

“Not exactly what you had in mind when you picked this out, huh?” he teased, nipping at the skin right below her ear just hard enough to leave a mark. She groaned, momentarily losing her train of thought, enjoying the feel of his lips against her skin.

“Bell…” she tried again, eyes darting toward the entrance of the living room. She had meant for it to come out more sharply, but his lips were working a hickey into her shoulder and she could barely think straight anymore.

Bellamy paused, pressing one last kiss to the side of her jaw before pulling back and taking her with him. Slowly, he walked her backward, lacing their hands together, keeping their eyes locked. Finally, he stopped, pulling her flush against his body as he reached behind her to push open the pantry door.

“Seriously?” Clarke giggled, glancing back to look at the stacks of Goldfish and pita chips as Bellamy walked them further into the pantry.

It smelled like cereal, fruit snacks and microwave popcorn, barely lit by the single hanging bulb from the ceiling. Bellamy gently pressed her against the shelves, laughing when a packet of pretzels came falling down from a higher shelf.

“Sex and unlimited snacks,” he chuckled, sidestepping the pretzels while Clarke made quick work out of removing her dress.

Clarke smiled fondly at him, leaning back to watch as he peeled off his pajamas and lifted her swiftly off the ground. She yelped, stuffing a fist into her mouth to keep the noise from carrying and reflexively wrapped her legs around his waist.

The movement pressed his dick right against her center and they both moaned at the contact, Clarke’s back hitting the shelves as Bellamy carefully propped her against them. She ground against him again, muffling her moans in the crook of his neck as his muscles flexed. Her skin was prickling with heat, amplified by the cramped space and their proximity.

When Bellamy finally pressed into her, she couldn’t contain the moan, relishing in the way it made his hips slam into her just a little harder. It was exhilarating, the thrill of having to be quiet, the tension in the air.

It was quick and dirty, a mess of stifled moans, kisses, and falling snacks. The rush of it was a reminder that they were alive, that there was still something out there. They had a future with each other and even if it felt like the world was crumbling around them, they would always have stolen moments in the pantry.

***

Bellamy scrolled absently on Zillow, staring at the never-ending carousel of homes. He always sorted the list from oldest to newest so he could see the homes that had been sitting on the market for the longest, those were usually the ones with the best bones. Kind of like this one, he considered, looking up at the wide wooden beams in the ceiling and the broad shiny windows.

Clarke had been so in love with this place when they had stepped into it, a shell of what it was now. She had laid down in what would eventually become the living room, looking up at these exact beams and smiling so wide it split her face right down the middle. It had been the first time he had seen her smile since her mom had died and he knew, that even though the house was a dump and would end up costing more than it was worth, they had to buy it.

He had grown to love it too, there were traces of them in every corner of this place. It had truly been a labor of love in the end. But recently it seemed like they were both starting to feel suffocated by it. This house had been a passion project, a work of art…but it wasn’t practical. It was too big, too modern, something about it just didn’t feel like home.

They were both itching for a new project, something to focus on, to pour their grief into. The Hearth had kind of fallen to the wayside amid all the other things going on. Part of him missed working, the physical exertion of hauling beams and smashing down walls but at the same time, the idea of flipping a house in the middle of everything felt selfish and trivial. He saved a few photos to show Clarke later and closed the app.

Madi’s head was pillowed against his stomach watching the ever-dreaded Squeakies. He tuned out the serenading rats in favor of listening to Clarke teach Jordan how to make brownies. It didn’t seem to be going well, Jordan had gotten pieces of eggshell into the batter and Clarke was patiently explaining to him how to pick them out.

“Daddy?” Madi asked, turning in his lap so she could look up at him with wide blue eyes. His stomach dropped, he had been dreading the moment when Madi would ask him something about Jordan and Charlotte leaving. She was surprisingly perceptive for her age, always asking questions and poking into things. They had discussed their answers, but the moment itself was going to be difficult no matter what he said.

He smiled, pushing his fears aside as he brushed one of her curls off her forehead gently, “what baby?”

“Why dun I got a tail?”

Bellamy chuckled as a wave of relief washed over him at the ridiculousness of the question. He looked between the screen and his daughter, furrowing his brow dramatically to show her he was really thinking. “Umm, because you don’t need one? Alvin needs a tail because he’s gotta climb trees.”

“But why?”

“Because he’s a chipmunk.”

“But why?”

“Because you wouldn’t be able to sit down.”

“But why?” she repeated, looking up at him expectantly as if he somehow would know the answer.

“Because that’s just the way it is?” he shrugged, sagging back against the couch when she shrugged in response and returned to her movie.

“But why?” Clarke teased, coming up behind him on the couch and pressing a kiss against his cheek. He tilted his chin up to kiss her properly, smiling against her lips when they were met with a chorus of “eww” from the kids. She slid her hand down his chest and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of satisfaction at the sparkle of the engagement ring on her finger.

They stayed like that for a moment, watching Jordan and Madi dance in circles in the living room to a horrible rendition of a Pitbull song as Clarke leaned her cheek against the top of his head. It was bittersweet, their last night together but it seemed fitting that it was kind of anti-climactic. He could almost pretend that it was a normal night, Jordan shuffling his feet in an awkward jig while Madi spun around on the floor like a tiny breakdancer.

Clarke pressed one last kiss to his lips before slipping back into the kitchen, the oven timer beeping loudly. She set out the first tray of brownies to cool while she pulled out a carton of ice cream, humming to herself as she wedged a spoon into the frozen container.

“Did you guys seriously think I wouldn’t notice the engagement ring?” Charlotte asked, leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Uh…I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, it just never felt like the right—” Clarke stammered, almost dropping the tub of vanilla ice cream she was holding.

“Save it, I’m happy for you. I’m mad about a lot of things but you two getting your heads out of your ass—I mean, butts is not one of them.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, sliding a heaping bowl of brownie and ice cream across the counter.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever you’re mad about.”

“Not really,” Charlotte sighed, taking a huge bite out of the bowl and groaning. “You make great dessert though.”

Clarke smiled softly, not wanting to pry and drive her away on the last night they had together. If Charlotte didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t going to change her mind. Silently she dished out the remaining bowls and handed a few to Charlotte to help carry into the living room. Thankfully, Squeakies was over and Bellamy was flipping through Hulu looking for something else to watch.

“God, remember when we used to watch Fixer Upper every single night?” Clarke sighed, pressing a bowl of ice cream into Bellamy’s lap as he flipped through their recently watched.

“You two look like exactly the kind of people who would enjoy that show,” Charlotte groaned, sitting heavily on the couch beside Clarke and pulling Madi into her lap.

“You my friend, have never seen a well done shiplap, it’s better than chocolate,” Bellamy teased, reaching over Clarke’s lap to steal a bite from Charlotte’s bowl.

“Dad said a bad word!” Jordan cried; mouth already smeared with chocolate as he pointed indignantly at Bellamy.

They all burst into peals of laughter, stealing bites of each other’s dessert while they argued over what to watch. It was painfully domestic and the exact amount of perfect to obscure the day looming ahead of them.

***

Clarke eased the already worn copy of The Hobbit off the shelf, it was clearly Jordan’s favorite, the spine was creased, and the pages stained with a rainbow of fingerprints. A safe choice. Even though they were nearing close to ten re-reads, he never grew tired of it. The words were familiar, comforting and she knew that no matter where they left off, Jordan would know how it ended.

It hadn’t felt right to leave him with half an unread book, the thought of him trying to finish it by himself just too heartbreaking to bear.

They sandwiched him between them, pulling him close and really sinking into the moment. He buried his face into Clarke’s neck, chewing on the edge of his sleeve and smiling sleepily at Bellamy as he opened the book.

Bellamy read slowly, quietly, trying to hold onto each word for as long as possible. This would be one of the things he missed the most, the quiet moments with just the three of them. It was warm and cozy, the soft glow of the Christmas lights and the smooth lilt of Bellamy’s fake accent as he read the familiar words. Just as he was nearing the end of the chapter, Jordan sat up quickly, sliding out of Clarke’s arms.

“I’m hungry,” he announced, pushing off the blankets and looking expectantly between Bellamy and Clarke.

Clarke sighed, running her hand through her hair as she considered the blatant attempt at stalling. On one hand, it was far past Jordan’s bedtime but on the other, she wasn’t exactly going to waste spending time with him. Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face and shrugged, nudging for Clarke to get out of bed. This was the fatal flaw with choosing the read The Hobbit, Jordan knew when the chapters were drawing to a close and had learned to use it to his advantage.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asked, scooping Jordan from where he sat wrapped in the covers.

“I don’t know…I’m just hungry,” he shrugged in response, tucking his head against Bellamy’s shoulder.

They were in for a long night, but he was kind of grateful for it. If today never ended, then they wouldn’t have to deal with tomorrow.

Clarke watched as Bellamy carried Jordan downstairs, listening to him list off foods that sounded like something that he wanted to eat. She moved to follow them, but the slight crack in Charlotte’s door held her back.

“Jordan wanted a snack, I think Bellamy’s going to throw something together if you want to come downstairs,” she offered, leaning in the doorway.

Charlotte was sitting on the floor with a half-open suitcase, the pink striped pajamas laid on top. She was just kind of staring at them, a pile of unfolded clothes sitting beside her. She didn’t respond to Clarke’s offer, instead smoothing a hand over the PJs as she covered them with a knit sweater.

“Is everything okay?” Clarke asked gently, sitting down on the floor beside her.

“Yeah, I just hate packing,” she sighed not meeting Clarke’s gaze as she half-heartedly reached toward the pile.

“I do too, I never really know where to put everything and then I get toothpaste in my underwear somehow,” she rambled, trying a little desperately to keep the conversation going. But the second the words left her mouth, she cringed, even by regular standards that was cringeworthy.

There was an awkward silence as Charlotte gave her a halfhearted smile and continued folding, not even pausing to make a jab about how weird Clarke was being. They sat like that for a beat longer before Clarke resigned and moved to stand up, it was clear that Charlotte just wanted to be alone.

“Will you invite us to the wedding?” she asked quietly, looking up to meet Clarke’s eyes with a small, sad smile on her face.

“Sweetheart, of course, you’re invited. You can be in it if you want to be. You and Jordan are a part of our family forever, no matter where you live,” Clarke assured, sitting back down so she could wrap an arm around her. “Plus, you helped me get my head out of my butt so to speak, so I know of owe you one.”

“You were pretty stupid…I mean, how did you not notice that dopey look he gives you when you say something not funny?”

“I know the look you’re talking about,” Clarke laughed, leaning back on her elbows. “But sometimes you get so close to something that you can’t see it. Sometimes you need a fifteen-year-old girl to call you out on your shit.”

There was another long pause as Charlotte studied her, bright blue eyes boring into Clarke’s. It felt like she was staring into her soul, trying to dissect her for everything that she was. Clarke resisted the urge to squirm, keeping her eyes trained forward, concentrating on the way Charlotte’s eyelashes brushed her cheeks.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

“You guys weren’t supposed to be like this…so…dorky and weird. You weren’t supposed to care about me so much or make Jordan so happy. I wasn’t supposed to love you,” Charlotte blurted out, voice catching as she choked on her words. She steadied herself, not allowing herself to fully cry but Clarke could see the wells of tears in her eyes.

“I feel like a piece of me is leaving with you tomorrow. But we’re never going to stop being there for you. I know you already have a mom but if you want, I could be like a weird big sister and Bellamy is really good at the whole big brother—” she began, rubbing a hand up and down Charlotte’s back, the ridges of her spine clicking against her fingers. Before she could finish, Charlotte turned and wrapped her into a tight hug, it was heartfelt, a far cry from the usual side hugs and shoulder leans they usually exchanged.

“I think a snack sounds good,” she said finally, easing herself out of Clarke’s arms and holding out a hand to help her up. In true Charlotte fashion, it had been a moment of sentimentality that had quickly passed, but it was progress.

***

“5…4…3…2…1,” Madi called, her face pressed into the couch cushion as she waited for everyone to hide. Jordan wasn’t really in the mood, folding himself up beside Ryder on the couch and watching halfheartedly as she excitedly ran around the living room pulling aside curtains and peeking behind tables.

One by one, Madi found them all, shrieking with excitement as she uncovered each of them from their admittedly terrible hiding places. Charlotte had barely tried, just laid on the floor with a blanket on top of her and waited until Madi stepped on her.

“Again! Again!” Madi yelled, cheeks still smeared with maple syrup from her pancakes as she hung like a monkey off Bellamy’s arms.

“You don’t wanna play baby?” Clarke asked softly, bending down to smooth Jordan’s hair off his forehead while Bellamy and Charlotte chased Madi in circles.

Jordan nodded “no” slowly, running his hand across Ryder’s back. “No, I just wanna watch,” he said quietly, looking up at Clarke with big, dark sad eyes.

“My big brave boy,” she smiled, cupping his cheek gently and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Do you want me to sit with you?”

He nodded again, crawling into her lap the minute she sat down on the couch. She squeezed him tightly, pressing her cheek against the crown of his head while they watched Bellamy pretend to look for Madi while she was hiding under a throw pillow.

They cycled through who was “it”, Madi never growing tired of being found in her extremely obvious hiding places. Clarke rocked Jordan slowly back and forth, humming softly to soothe him. He had been so good last night, laughing and chatting animatedly as they ate mac and cheese on the kitchen floor. It hurt to see him so crestfallen, to know there was nothing she could do to fix this. All she could do was hold him, let him know she was here and that she loved him.

On Charlotte’s third turn to seek, the doorbell rang. The sound echoing through the house and settling deep in the air. They all froze, momentarily suspended in this last moment together. It rang again and Charlotte finally stepped away from the wall, moving to open the door.

Jordan’s arms tightened around Clarke’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the thin sleeves of her shirt so tightly that it would probably bruise. She could feel the wet tracks of tears against her neck and she rubbed a comforting hand against his back, trying to keep him steady as she carefully stood up from the couch.

“Is my mom late?” Charlotte asked, stepping back to allow Anya to follow her into the house. Clarke and Bellamy shared a confused look as Anya ran a hand through her hair, holding a blue folder tightly to her chest. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and hair wilder than usual. Even her normally sharp clothing looked wrinkled and well worn.

She gave Charlotte a soft smile before turning to Bellamy, something about the way she was looking at him made his stomach drop. Everything about her face read bad news, but he didn’t really know how this already bad situation could get any worse.

“Hey Charlotte, why don’t you take Jordan and go grab your suitcases?” he said nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

“I’m not a little kid, tell me what’s going on,” Charlotte demanded, crossing her arms as she stepped into Anya’s space. There was an edge of panic to her tone as if she and Anya were in on something that they didn’t understand.

“Maybe we should sit down?” Anya said softly, gesturing toward the couches. The knot in Bellamy’s stomach grew, an inkling of the situation setting in, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions before it was confirmed.

“Just say it, Anya. No bullshit,” Charlotte spat, refusing to move from where she was rooted by the door. Her panic was clear in her voice now, veins in her neck popping out as she spoke.

“Your mother was supposed to call me last night to confirm details for today, she never answered so I got worried. I spent most of last night tracking her down—she’s not coming Charlotte,” Anya said gently, tone unrecognizable from her usual sharp voice.

“What?! Why not? She filled out all the papers! We had the court hearing, I don’t understand…is she okay?”

“I saw her, spoke with her, she’s not in a good place. She seemed genuinely regretful when I was talking to her, she really does want you to have a good life…but she can’t give you that.”

“No! No! She’s going to take me home, we’re going to be together again,” Charlotte continued, anger slipping into hysteria as she flung her thin arms around and stamped her foot.

Jordan tightened his grip against Clarke’s neck, body rigid as Charlotte screamed and Anya desperately tried to soothe her. The yelling was echoing around the foyer, a suitcase falling heavily to the ground as Charlotte took out her frustrations on it.

“Charlotte, the reason your mother can’t be here today is because she was arrested. It’s very serious. I spoke with the district attorney and she is facing a very long sentence. There’s nothing we can do,” Anya said finally, holding out the blue folder to illustrate her point.

“So, what exactly does this mean?” Bellamy interrupted, brain still racing with the implication of what Anya was saying.

“She waived her parental rights, which according to the judge means that Jordan and Charlotte will stay with you,” she said carefully, purposely keeping her tone neutral as she looked from them both to Charlotte and then down to Jordan.

Charlotte’s face was bright red as she fought the tears that were threatening to spill out. Clarke carefully handed Jordan to Bellamy, stepping forward to try and calm her somehow. But before Clarke could do or say anything, Charlotte ran. The slap of her bare feet echoed through the enormous house as she ran toward the backyard, slamming the sliding door behind her. The bang of the door startled Madi into a fit of tears, the yelling, and loud noises clearly too much for her.

Bellamy and Clarke shared a panicked look as they looked between their two crying kids and the glass backdoor.

“I’m not the best with young kids but I’ll handle this, you two should go talk to her,” Anya said with a heavy sigh, shrugging off her cardigan as she took Jordan from Bellamy’s arms.

With the knowledge that Madi and Jordan were taken care of, they ran, flinging the back door open and sprinting into the tangle of reeds that filled their backyard. It only took a few minutes for them to spot Charlotte’s red sweater amid the tall gold grass.

Clarke knelt gently beside her, placing a hand onto her back, she wasn’t sure what to say—there really wasn’t anything she could say, nothing would make this better. Briefly, she worried whether this was Charlotte’s apocalyptic moment, whether this was the moment that would steal a part of who she was forever. She hoped it wasn’t, hoped there was some way they could stop this, a way they could dull the hurt. They needed to give her the kind of support they had always given each other, needed to pull her from the pit before she got stuck.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said finally, an apology was really the only thing she could think of to say. Bellamy sat beside her, a little more unsure. He and Charlotte hadn’t bonded as closely, and it was clear he didn’t know exactly what his role was in all of this.

“Why doesn’t she love me enough to choose me first,” Charlotte sobbed, rubbing her eyes roughly with the sleeves of her sweater. “The drugs will always come before me…I don’t understand.”

“Charlotte, I’m sure she was trying her best. Recovery is really hard, but she got the suit and wore the shoes and came to court, she did love you. She loved you enough to want the best for you,” Bellamy said softly, pulling a wadded up tissue from his pocket and pressing into her hand.

“I hate this. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she repeated, using the balled up tissue to dab at her eyes but the tears kept flowing, her shoulders heaving with the force of her sobs. “It was always supposed to be temporary.”

“It’s okay to be angry—” Clarke began, reaching out to touch her knee but Charlotte recoiled, balling herself up even tighter.

“Don’t try to shrink me, I’m pissed because I’ve been lied to and left behind my entire life. My own mom is too busy doing drugs to care about bringing me home. Nothing you say can make that better.”

“You’re right…we can’t, we can’t change the fact that you got dealt a shitty hand. But we can be here for you because we love you,” Bellamy tried, dropping the platitudes in favor of just being honest.

“You barely know me.”

“We know you would protect Jordan and Madi with your life, that you’re incredible at science, you secretly love those striped pajamas even though they’re girly, you’re observant enough that you saw my feelings for Bellamy before I did and you’re kind, compassionate and strong even though life has been incredibly unfair to you,” Clarke began, trying to keep herself from crying as she carefully took Charlotte’s hand. “We don’t know everything about you, but we want to know as much as possible because we do love you.”

“I’m not what you signed up for, you wanted Madi and Jordan. They’re tiny and cute, they have less baggage, you’re great with them, they’re so happy here. We don’t have to do this. I think you should adopt Jordan, he’s going to become an amazing person with parents like you…but I’m beyond this. It’s just three more years, Anya can find me a nice group home—”

“Hey. Stop that right now, we are a family. You, me, Bellamy, Jordan and Madi, the five of us together. We came into this single and lost, we built this family together and all three of you are an important part of that. You’re not beyond this, we want you, we love you. You were the thing that’s been missing from our lives all this time, you were the piece that brought us together,” Clarke said firmly, letting out a sigh of relief when Charlotte surged into her arms, burying her face into her neck while she sobbed.

“We chose each other, found each other, that is such an amazing thing. You were exactly what we asked for, this family was exactly what it was always supposed to be. It’s serendipity,” Bellamy added, placing a reassuring hand on Charlotte’s back. “We love you, nothing you say or do will ever change that.”

To his shock, Charlotte turned, wrapping him in an equally tight hug. Bellamy froze, she had never hugged him before, he couldn’t believe he had somehow managed to say the right thing. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, funneling all the love he had for her into this hug. It was bone-crushing, and he could feel her tears seeping into his shirt, but it seemed to finally calm her down a little.

Charlotte sat back on her knees, rubbing her eyes to clear the last of her tears. Her makeup had smeared across her cheeks, stained the sleeves of her cream cardigan. She looked so young, so heartbroken, it made Clarke’s chest ache.

Jordan came barreling out of the house, flinging himself into Bellamy’s side as he cut through the tall grass. He missed by a few feet, hitting the floor with a soft thud. All three of them paused, waiting to see if he would react, but he just sprung up, wrapping his arms around Bellamy’s torso.

“Miss. Anya said we’re staying!” he said cheerfully, looking brightly up at Bellamy with his gap-toothed smile. “She said this is our forever family.”

“What do you say Charlotte, do you want to be a forever family?” Clarke asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear in the same way Bellamy always did.

“I think I like the sound of that,” she said carefully, not quite smiling, but the hopelessness in her eyes started to fade.

That was what family was, it wasn’t about making the good times last forever or making sure that bad things never happened. It was making the world ending moments feel a little brighter, keeping them from turning into a hole that consumed you completely. As long as they had each other, the end of the world felt very far away.


	12. Birthdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Rivers and Roads by the Head and the Heart

“Mommy, I drawed this,” Madi said urgently, pulling on the hem of Clarke’s dress to pull her attention away from the phone. Clarke smiled softly, propping the phone against her shoulder so she could pull Madi up to sit on the edge of the counter. She kept one arm wrapped around Madi’s back as she finished talking, ironing out the details of a meeting while she nodded appreciatively.

“This is perfect Mads. Good job baby, she’ll be so surprised,” Clarke smiled, setting her phone down on the counter as she marveled at the poster. “Go Charlotte,” was written in Bellamy’s big bold handwriting, surrounded by yellow-haired blobs, rainbows, and soccer balls. With a chuckle, Clarke set the poster against the fridge, careful not to rustle the papers that covered the smooth chrome. It was crammed from edge to edge with Madi’s drawings, Charlotte’s quizzes and Jordan’s crafts, sprinkled in between were photos from camping trips and baseball games and a few sticky notes with Clarke’s messy handwriting.

“We’re going to need a second fridge,” Bellamy grinned, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he came in from the backyard.

“That is clearly the only possible solution to this problem,” she agreed, looking intently at the very first drawing they had hung up. The one Madi had drawn of their family, beside it was the charcoal sketch Clarke had made for Jordan. It was kind of like a scrapbook, an homage to how far they had come. Sure, it was getting harder and harder to open the door, but she liked the sentiment of it all the same.

“Who was that on the phone?” Bellamy asked, easing the door open slowly to retrieve a bottle of water.

Clarke shifted, moving to smooth back Madi’s hair in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Bellamy would be able to tell she was lying if he saw her expression. “It was Murphy, you know, standard complaining about how furniture shipments are taking too long…” she tried, hoping her voice sounded casual.

“Liar,” Bellamy teased, bumping his hip against hers as he moved to inspect Madi’s poster.

“It’s no nice tuh lie mommy,” Madi said seriously, planting her hands on her hips and fixing Clarke with a serious expression.

“That’s right tic tac, it’s not nice to lie. Mommy is trying to cover up that she’s planning something for my birthday even though I told her not to,” Bellamy said smugly, smacking a wet kiss against Madi’s cheek as he smirked at Clarke.

“Birthday!” Madi squealed excitedly, slapping her little hands against the counter to emphasize her point.

“I’m not planning your birthday,” Clarke exclaimed, grateful Bellamy had unknowingly given her an excuse

“Mhmm, sure,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist, face still smug. Bellamy wasn’t one for celebrating himself, especially on his birthday. Growing up, they had never had the kind of money for elaborate parties or expensive cakes, his mom had tried her best, often saving up money for weeks to buy a few store-bought cupcakes and a candle. It wasn’t much, but it had felt special at the time.

After she died, his birthdays had kind of fallen to the wayside. He usually spent them working, coming home to a bowl of mac and cheese and some candy from Octavia. He didn’t really mind; it had never felt the same without his mom. It wasn’t until college that he really celebrated it again. Clarke had found out about it by accident, he had let it slip during a particularly heartfelt late-night talk. That used to happen a lot in the early days, it had been a relief to finally have someone to talk to, someone who understood him. One way or another, he had told her everything…including the fact that he didn’t really like his birthday.

She had immediately made it her life’s mission to change his mind about birthdays, appalled by the idea that he wouldn’t want to have an entire day dedicated to himself. Turned out, Clarke loved celebrating other people, loved to make a huge deal out of people’s birthdays. That year, she had thrown him an absolutely massive party, baked a huge cake by herself, arranged for all their friends to chip in for a leather-bound set of books.

Looking back, Bellamy hadn’t really appreciated the effort she had taken. Sure, he had thanked her a million times, hugged her so hard that he thought he might break her on accident, but the weight of the gesture had gone over his head at the time. It was crazy that it had taken them this long to put it all together, honestly, it physically pained him that they had wasted so much time. Octavia had been right all along, the kind of love that he and Clarke had for each other was one in a million. It was the selfless, patient, soulmate kind of love, the kind that people waited their whole lives to find. It had been there since the beginning, tucked in small gestures like birthday parties and comforting hugs, he had just been too close to see it.

Even when they were relative strangers, Clarke had made sure he felt special on a day when he had always felt a little more alone than usual. He tightened his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and trying to convey the emotions that were bubbling in his chest into it. “I love you so much,” he murmured, kissing her forehead one last time before pulling away as he spotted Charlotte coming down the stairs.

“Clarke!! Can you help me with my hair? Coach said we have to do the braids and I keep getting my hands tangled in it,” Charlotte yelled, cleats clicking against the hardwood as she jogged into the kitchen. “I love you too,” Clarke said quietly, kissing the tip of his nose and slipping out of his grasp, wincing at the tangle of Charlotte’s waves.

Clarke ran her hands through Charlotte’s hair gesturing for her to sit at the kitchen table. It felt motherly, familiar, something about it reminded Clarke of her own mother in a way that made her heart seize. This was one of those gestures, a standard mother-daughter thing. Every girl had a memory of having their mother do their hair, Clarke hoped that Charlotte would remember this, that this wouldn’t be the only time they would have this moment.

She hoped with time they would get more and more moments like this, that Charlotte’s walls would keep coming down. They had spent the nights after that fateful afternoon talking, hoping that one day Charlotte would get to act like a kid again. She deserved to feel like the weight of the world wasn’t resting on her shoulders.

Charlotte had been through a lot, had been let down more times than any child deserved to. She wouldn’t be calling them mom and dad anytime soon, but she was starting to warm up to the idea of being taken care of. It showed in little gestures like this, letting Clarke braid her hair or Bellamy make her an after school snack. For the first time in her life, she was acting like a kid.

They had a game to get to, but Clarke took her time, separating each piece of hair and twining it slowly. Around them, there was the bustle of Bellamy making Jordan a snack and wrestling Madi’s shoes on, but they were in their own world. It was a sweet moment; Charlotte was totally at ease and Clarke was going to appreciate this for as long as she could.

“That should do it,” she said, wrapping a hair tie around the end with a flourish. Bellamy had already shuffled the younger two kids into the car and Charlotte quickly checked herself in the mirror with a soft smile before they followed them out the door.

It was a beautiful warm day, the sun heating the bleachers just enough to make the hard metal bearable. Bellamy handed Jordan the sign, encouraging him to wave it around as Charlotte jogged onto the field for her warm-up. She rolled her eyes, but smiled fondly at them, waving in Jordan’s direction as she joined the other players. None of the other parents came equipped with signs, but Jordan’s enthusiasm was too endearing to put it away. He held the sign up through the entire warm-up, yelling encouragement as the game started. Eventually, someone handed Madi a blue and gold pompom and she waved it happily, further adding to their spectacle.

“Are we embarrassing her?” Clarke murmured, pressing up against Bellamy’s side as they cheered on yet another goal. Charlotte was a superstar, by far the best player on the field. They had spent most of the game of their feet, waving their sign around as she scored.

“She’s going to the pros, she better get used to all the cheering,” Bellamy grinned, punching his fist into the air when Charlotte kicked a ball straight across the field. He was beaming, the pride clear on his face as he watched her, excitement rolling off his body as the score ticked higher and higher.

“A proud sports dad, just like you always wanted,” she smiled, kissing Bellamy’s shoulder softly while the crowd roared at a good defensive play.

***

Jordan clutched him stomach dramatically, flopping onto the couch the second they entered the house. “I’m so full I’m gonna explode,” he moaned, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“Nobody made you eat an entire cinnamon roll after your eggs,” Bellamy teased, ruffling Jordan’s hair.

Jordan buried his face against Bellamy’s leg, tilting slightly to allow for him to run a hand up and down his back. “It was your birthday cinnamon roll dad, I **had** to,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at Bellamy like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Bellamy chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down Jordan’s back while they watched Clarke playfully chase Madi in circles around the living room. Unlike Jordan, the sugar had turned her wild and she was cackling maniacally as she ran. After a particularly strong round of laughter, she whipped off her pink striped t-shirt waving it over her head like a flag as her chubby legs propelled her past the couch. She was yelling garbled lyrics to “Uptown Funk,” which was a staple song from her beloved Alvin and the Chipmunks CD. Clarke panted overdramatically while Madi ran in tight circles around her legs, pausing to do a few jumping jacks before continuing her laps around the couch.

This continued for the entire length of the song until she finally ground to a halt when she collided directly into Charlotte’s legs, falling backward with a soft thud.

Not even pausing for a response, Charlotte hauled Madi up, propping her against her hip as she looked nervously at the floorboards with one hand stuffed into her pocket. She had run upstairs the second they had gotten home, which combined with the look on her face, was enough to make Clarke very nervous. Things had been good lately, she hoped that something hadn’t happened to upset her.

“Since it’s your birthday and all…I figured I would get you something. You guys have done so much for me and—” she began, voice unsure as she pulled two pieces of printer paper from her pocket. Bellamy’s heart grew three sizes as he looked between Charlotte and the papers. It was so sweet, so thoughtful, he was kind of blown away. Clarke had picked out new construction boots, a few books and clay handprints from Madi and Jordan, paired with handwritten cards full of scribbled and colorful drawings, but he hadn’t expected anything from Charlotte.

It was really a surprise.

He didn’t even know what it was and he already sure this was the best present ever.

“Did you write me letters?!” Bellamy asked excitedly, unwrapping himself from Jordan so he could appreciate the gesture fully.

“Of course, that would be your guess…”

“You seriously didn’t have to get me anything—”

“Yeah, yeah spending time with us is the best gift, mushy-gushy classic Bellamy,” Charlotte sighed, shoving him fondly as she pushed the paper into Bellamy’s hands, grinning proudly. “They’re baseball tickets.”

Sure enough, printed on the paper were five tickets to see the Arkadia Raiders play this afternoon. The tickets, combined with her proud smile, was enough to melt Bellamy’s heart.

“I know it’s not exactly an MLB team or anything but we—”

“This is one of my favorite birthday presents ever, thank you so much. I love it,” he said warmly, trying to keep the happy tears from spilling out. “Can I hug you, Char?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes but took a step closer, wrapping her arms around Bellamy’s torso and squeezing. It had been a slow process and some days were better than others, but Charlotte was coming around. Sure, the road to becoming a real family wasn’t instant, but it felt like they were on their way there. This felt like real progress.

***

Charlotte’s cheeks were sunkissed and a little red as she came thudding down the stairs, wringing her wet hair with a towel. The baseball game had been warm and full of laughter, the perfect way to spend the day as a family. Bellamy had shelled more peanuts than he could count and spent half the time explaining the rules to Jordan, but it was one of the best days of his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy, this might just be his favorite birthday since the party Clarke threw him all those years ago.

“You guys look nice,” she smiled, flopping on the couch to watch while Clarke slipped on her heels.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourselves? We can always cancel and eat dinner as a family,” Clarke began nervously, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress as she glanced over at her daughter.

“Madi and Jordan are so tired they’re not going to need me at all and I’m not letting go of having the living room to myself that easily. I have an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy saved up just for this occasion,” she grinned waving the remote between her fingers while she pulled up the Netflix homepage. “We spend tons of time together; I think we do more bonding than literally any other family I know. Go be a normal couple.”

“If you need anything, we’re just going to be a short drive away,” Bellamy added, adjusting his suit jacket around his shoulders as he came to stand beside Clarke.

“I have Octavia and Murphy’s numbers too, stop worrying and go be dorky and cute with your equally dorky and cute friends,” Charlotte groaned waving her hand toward the door.

“Pizza is in the oven and there’s ice cream in the freezer, based on the episode you’re about to watch you’ll probably need it,” Bellamy called over his shoulder, chuckling at the wide-eyed look Charlotte gave him as she pressed play on her show.

Clarke glanced over at Bellamy, the harsh yellow glow of the porchlights highlighted the curves of his face, emphasizing the goofy grin spread across his cheeks. She loved Bellamy’s birthday, it had always been a day to celebrate her favorite person, a day where she could show him how much he meant to her. Sure, now that they were a couple, she could do that every day but there was something special about celebrating the day someone came into the world.

She cupped a hand against his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone slowly as she just took him in. His eyes softened in that way that they always did right before they kissed, and Clarke’s heart skipped a beat as their lips met. They had done this thousands of times before, but it never got old. Somehow, in moments like this, when they were really alone, it always felt like their first kiss.

His lips pressed gently against hers, pulling her close as they just enjoyed the feel of each other. Standing here, kissing the love of his life, Bellamy had never felt more grateful for another birthday. If this was the start of the next year of his life, it was going to be a good one, he wasn’t sure how the next 364 days would be able to top this.

“The car...” Clarke murmured, waving her hand toward the truck, barely pulling away a centimeter before diving back in and kissing him harder, more intensely.

Bellamy’s breath caught in his chest when the weight of her words set in, he felt lightheaded as their kisses grew more desperate, gathering all his willpower to pull away and pull Clarke toward their dusty old truck.

They ran hand in hand, giggling like teenagers as Clarke’s heels slipped against the smooth gravel and Bellamy’s fingers fumbled with the keys. Thankfully they were far enough down the driveway that the porchlights clicked off, leaving them cloaked in darkness as they stole kisses, still unable to get the key into place.

Clarke’s back was pressed against the cool leather seat the second the door flew open, the fabric stuck to the exposed skin of her back, sending a shiver down her spine as Bellamy hovered over her.

“Sit back,” she instructed, pushing his shoulders until he sat fully upright in the passenger seat. Trying to keep from losing her balance, Clarke pulled herself up, swinging one of her legs around to straddle Bellamy’s lap. “Can’t let you do all the work on your birthday, now can I?” she teased, running a finger down the side of his face, trailing it over his lips until it caught against the seam. She tugged on his bottom lip gently, tracing the shape of his lip before tipping his chin up to kiss her one more time. It was heated, the air in the tight space heavy while they made out. Their kissing had shifted from soft and romantic to desperate, dirty. Clarke pointedly ground her hips against Bellamy’s, groaning when the hard length of his cock rubbed up against her core.

“Holy shit, are you not wearing underwear?” Bellamy groaned, voice dropping a few octaves as he looked at her with blown pupils, sliding his hands under the satin of her dress to flex his fingers against the bare skin of her ass.

Clarke nodded, making quick work of undoing Bellamy’s belt and slowly pulling down his zipper. The car was silent, except for their breathing and rustle of fabric while he adjusted his pants.

“I feel like I’m in high school again,” he chuckled a little nervously, “Should we play some Shania Twain?”

“Since I’m not ancient, The Plain White T’s was more my vibe.”

“Please don’t tell me you swiped your v-card to ‘Hey There Delilah’,” Bellamy laughed, kissing Clarke’s neck while she squirmed in her lap.

“It felt like a romantic choice at the time,” she said defensively, sentence trailing off into a moan when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Any thoughts of music were long gone while Bellamy worked a mark into the side of her neck. It satisfied something primal in her, that he was marking her, that she was his. She blushed at the thought, shifting in his lap while he scraped his teeth gently against her neck.

“Need you, fuck, Bellamy,” she panted, desperately trying to shift her hips to pull him inside her. Finally, she sunk down, pressing their hips together in a slow, purposeful thrust. They both let out a low moan at the contact, fogging up the windows even further.

It wasn’t quick and dirty like Clarke had planned, the intensity of it was too much, it felt like her skin was on fire. She couldn’t get enough, but she never wanted this feeling to stop. They didn’t get much time together alone like this, it wasn’t often they felt like a true couple instead of just like parents. There was something so exhilarating about having sex in this car, Clarke felt young and carefree. She felt so stupidly in love, it was overwhelming.

She cupped the curve of Bellamy’s jaw, pulling his face up so she could look into his eyes when she felt her orgasm building up. The intensity of his gaze was enough to push her over the edge, a wave of extasy so strong she momentarily whited out. Her orgasm whipped through her, sending wave and wave of warm tingles throughout her body as he pulsed into her, filling her. It was perfect and cramped and sweaty and so beautiful she could cry.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered, voice hoarse as she pressed their foreheads together. “Here’s to a lifetime more together.”

Bellamy didn’t want to let her go, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her back while he came down. He knew they couldn’t stay like this forever, but he wanted to keep the moment for as long as possible. “Thank you, for making each birthday better than the last,” he said, nudging their noses together.

Clarke had underestimated the cleanup time for car sex, by the time they had readjusted themselves to be presentable, they were definitely late for dinner. But it didn’t really matter, Bellamy couldn’t wipe the smile off his face while Clarke played old songs from when she was in high school, her hand resting casually against his thigh as he drove.

They were the last to pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, rushing in with mumbled apologies while everyone stood to greet them, sharing knowing looks over their heads.

It had been months since they had been able to hang out as just adults, part of Bellamy was relieved, but he also couldn’t suppress the urge to brag about Charlotte’s soccer game or to tell Murphy all about the horrors of Squeakies. Somehow, without either of them noticing the conversations all spiraled to be about their kids. Willow was crawling, Claire lost her first tooth, Elijah finally learned to tie his shoes without accidentally tying them together. It was kind of amazing how quickly things changed, less than a year ago, this conversation would’ve made Bellamy want to claw his eyes out…but now he was just as bad as everyone else.

They tired of kid conversation eventually, shifting to Raven’s new job and a discussion over whether Miles should professionally rebrand himself as Zeke. Bellamy leaned back, just appreciating all the incredible people in his life. He had always erred on the side of sentimental, but all the emotion from today was taking its toll, he wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take.

Octavia surprised him with an ice cream cake the words, “Happy 900th Birthday Bellamy,” written across it in neat, red frosting. It was a longstanding joke, dating back to when ColdStone had accidentally wished him happy 280th birthday one year. They had all posed around it, cramming close together as the waiter grudgingly stood on a chair to fit them all in.

It was kind of amazing, they had all found each other when they were just scared kids and now, they all had kids themselves. This family had started as one of necessity, as a way for them to forget that they had no one to go home to. They had been there for each other through so much, had literally grown up in front of each other’s eyes.

Seemingly overnight, they had become real people, watched as one by one, they fell in love and started their lives. Bellamy and Clarke getting together, it was momentous, the final hanging thread to mark a full circle. This felt like a new beginning, a new phase of life milestones…but even amid all these changes, it was nice to know they would always have misspelled birthday cakes.

Bellamy had never really liked birthdays; they had always been an occasion to be surrounded by the people who loved you. Growing up, they had just emphasized how small his family was. Later, the day was filled with the gaping hole of his mom being gone. But now, surrounded by this weird family, with his own even weirder family at home, he finally appreciated it.

It had never really been about him, birthdays brought people together, it was a marker of time, a way to reflect on everything you were grateful for. Right now, Bellamy had a lot to be grateful for. He had never felt so whole, so loved, for possibly the first time in his life, he felt complete.

***

Bellamy held a white Styrofoam container with leftover ice cream cake in his lap, Clarke had insisted on driving, even though he had barely had anything to drink. She had cracked the windows, the soft murmur of an indie song drifting through the speakers as they drove. It was striking, driving home from dinner with their friends, the last time they had done this, they had been single, childless. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the seat as Clarke’s soft voice melded with the raspy song. He kept his hand laced with hers, holding her fingers against his chest, a simple reminder that she was beside him.

The drive stretched on for longer than usual and Bellamy finally cracked his eyes open when he realized it wasn’t just his imagination. Shockingly, instead of the wide expanse of fields and wide skies that surrounded their house, they were in the middle of the suburbs. Clarke was driving down a narrow road, it was quaint, filled with nicer homes, spaced far enough apart to accommodate a few trees in between.

“Did you take a wrong turn or something?” he asked, sitting up fully to take in their surroundings.

Clarke paused for a minute, chewing on the edge of her lip as she rounded the corner, keeping her eyes trained on the road. “Not quite,” she said softly, pulling to a stop in front of a white house with a wide front yard.

“Where are we?”

“At your birthday gift?” she said as they stood in front of the house, staring up at blue shutters and the winding stone walkway.

“What?” he balked, eyes widening when Clarke bent to enter the code into the security pad and pushed the antique door open.

The house was a little musty, the interior outdated and busy, but it had good bones. He could picture knocking out a few walls, making this place feel more fresh, more like home.

“Is this a new flip?” he grinned leaning against the banister while he surveyed the layout. “Because this has some serious potential.”

“I thought it could be for us? I know we’ve been talking about a fresh start and after everything, it feels like a good time,” she said carefully, a glimmer in her eyes as she followed his gaze.

Wordlessly, Bellamy took three steps forward, lying down in the empty living room. He tipped his head up, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, feeling the energy of the house seeping through his back. Clarke was momentarily awestruck, it was a familiar motion and from the look on his face, she knew it was a yes. This was it, this was their house. They were going to build it together, it would be theirs from the beginning.

She had spent weeks scouring on Zillow, pouring over homes trying to find the perfect fit. In the end, Emori had stumbled on this place while doing carpool. It was everything they were looking for, not too big, not too small, lots of kids nearby and huge yard perfect for backyard campouts.

This wasn’t a grief project or a massive undertaking that would spiral past their wildest dreams, this would be the house they raised their family, the house they would celebrate birthdays, Christmases and everything in between. It would be a fresh start, free from the pain of unrequited feelings and court hearings, a place for love.

Clarke laid down beside Bellamy, curling into his chest as they both looked up at the ceiling. “I was thinking we could do something more traditional for this one,” she whispered against the fabric of his shirt, rubbing her hand up and down his torso.

“The kind of house built for blanket forts and kitchen dance parties,” Bellamy agreed, hugging her close.

“Exactly,” she agreed, surging up to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“I like the sound of that,” he said, resting his cheek against her head. “Thank you, this past year has been the best year of my life—I never in a million years thought I would be this lucky. I never thought when I made that insane suggestion that we would end up here.”

“Honestly neither did I, but I’m really glad I agreed.”

“Here’s to a fresh start,” he whispered against her hair, pulling just far enough away to hold his pinky out to her.

She let out a watery laugh, linking her pinky with his and bringing her fist up to her lips. This time though, she followed it with a kiss against Bellamy’s lips. It was arguably a much better way to seal a deal.


	13. Click

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons and the cover of the same song by Matt Johnson and Amber Irish. I would def recommend listening to it toward the end ;)

Bellamy shifted, the weight of Madi’s head against his arm causing the sensation in his fingers to dull completely. She was positioned with her body half strewn across Clarke, with the other half on Bellamy, almost like even in her sleep, she couldn’t decide who she wanted to snuggle with more. Jordan was wrapped around his torso like a koala, his hand fisted tightly in Bellamy’s shirt. Even Charlotte was curled with her head in Clarke’s lap, shoulders rising and falling slowly as she slept. Obviously, The Notebook had been a boring choice for the kids, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to try and keep from crying as the movie drew to a close.

Trying to keep his eyes anywhere other than the screen, Bellamy looked at their pile of tangled limbs, this would never get old. It was incredible, he had known these kids for less than a year, but they were undoubtedly his. There was no universe where he could imagine his life without them.

With the glimmer of tears in her eyes, Clarke clicked off the movie, picking an old episode of Mad Men, not even bothering to re-start the episode from the beginning. She had always hated the ends of movies, especially sad ones, they had only made it the entire way through The Notebook once. It was one of those movies that had a satisfying end, but it wasn’t the kind of ending anyone wanted to think about. Sad as it was, Bellamy hoped their love would last that long. That they would get to lie side by side when they were old and grey, that he would never have to live in the world without Clarke. He hoped they would get that lucky.

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked softly, pulling Madi fully against her side so she could see him. Her gaze was soft, eyes still a little shiny as she reached out to rub her thumb in the middle of his eyebrows. “You’re doing that scrunchy thing with your forehead.”

“What are we waiting for?” he asked candidly, eyes flickering to the ring on Clarke’s finger.

“Honestly I don’t know…” she answered after a long pause, eyes flitting over each of the kids’ sleeping forms.

“I want to be married to you, I want to make these kids ours officially, I want us to be able to officially be a family.”

“I want that too…more than anything.”

“Then let’s just do this, we’ve wasted so much time waiting for the right time.”

“Weddings take forever to plan though, it’ll take us months to get it all together…” Clarke trailed off, sighing deeply as thoughts of wedding planning swirled in her head. Honestly, the idea of planning a huge wedding, inviting hundreds of people, putting on a huge show—it felt wrong, it wasn’t them. They didn’t need a big fancy wedding; they hadn’t done anything in the right order, and they didn’t need to start now. The only thing that mattered was being married to Bellamy, the rest was immaterial. “Unless we just screw the grand gesture?”

“You deserve a real wedding Clarke.”

“I deserve to marry the man I love, how we do it doesn’t really matter. It’s the marriage that counts Bell, the wedding is just a party.”

“Just us and the people who matter,” Bellamy murmured, corners of his mouth tilting into a smile as it set in that they were really doing this.

“Honestly what more could we ask for?” she smiled, reaching out to cup his jaw in her palm. It didn’t feel real, but by some miracle, this was her life.

She was going to be Clarke Griffin-Blake and they would be one step closer to becoming a real family.

***

“ONE WEEK!?! You’ve got to be kidding me,” Octavia yelled, voice cracking slightly as she reached for a throw pillow to chuck at Bellamy.

“No, fuck dude, stop with the pillows,” Bellamy snapped back, holding his arms up to shield himself from the blows. After a few hits, he picked up a pillow of his own to retaliate. Clarke cringed as a few feathers slipped from an expensive pillow, making a mental note to order a new one as Bellamy used it to smack Octavia on the arm.

“I was thinking we should chip in the Bellamy and Clarke dating bet fund toward your wedding…it kind of feels fitting,” Lincoln said quietly, turning away from the scene that the Blakes were making.

“We couldn’t rob you of your winnings…”

“It got a little complicated because everyone’s bets are overlapping, we’re not really sure who won anymore.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that…”

“Do you want to know how much the pool is?”

“I’m almost afraid to ask…” Clarke sighed, angling her shoulder to avoid getting dragged in the ongoing argument between Octavia and Bellamy.

“You’re going to be happy but also kind of pissed,” Lincoln said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s over five thousand bucks.”

Clarke barked out a laugh, more in shock than anything else. Five thousand dollars, their friends had held onto a bet that they would end up together for so long it had turned into the beginnings of a small college fund. She wasn’t sure if it was incredible or kind of gross.

“How—why…I have so many questions,” she finally said, unable to keep her confusion from showing on her face.

“It started pretty small; I mean, we were broke as hell in college. But when you guys started the business together, we escalated it and then when you got the kids…we escalated it again. Eventually, Jasper put it into an investment portfolio and it kind of got out of control,” he shrugged, bending down to replace a pillow onto the couch. “Consider it a wedding present.”

Clarke gave him a genuine smile and pushed away her conflicting emotions about the bet money. Bellamy and Octavia seemed to have completely forgotten that they were beating each other with pillows only seconds before and were now speaking seriously about the logistics of reserving a venue. It sounded like they were considering a zoo wedding and putting a stop to that was far more pressing than lamenting over a bet that had run its course.

“Irritation over the short timeline aside, I’m very happy for you,” Octavia paused, standing to sit beside Clarke. She threw an arm around her shoulder and squeezed tightly, it was warm and familiar, tinged with the scent of Jo Malone grapefruit and baby soap. “We’re going to be sisters!”

“I’ve always wanted one of those,” Clarke smiled, pressing her cheek against Octavia’s as they hugged. They had had their weird moments, highs and lows in their friendship but in the end, Octavia did feel like her sister in a lot of ways. In the whirlwind of everything, she hadn’t really stopped to consider the fact that marrying Bellamy would give her real family ties, that her kids would grow up with cousins, a big extended family, the kind of thing she had always wanted when she was young. “But what I haven’t always wanted is a wedding at the zoo…that sounds unsanitary.”

“You don’t want to get married in front of the hippo exhibit? Color me shocked,” Lincoln chuckled, shooting Octavia a fond glance that was tinged with a hint of warning to stay in her lane.

Clarke laughed along as Octavia and Bellamy bickered over increasingly ridiculous options, ones that they were never realistically going to be able to get even if they were planning on a normal timeline.

“I have the best idea ever,” Octavia exclaimed after a long silence, eyes wide and hopeful while she looked between Bellamy and Clarke.

“I’m on the edge of my seat…” Bellamy groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face as he fell back against the cushions.

“No seriously, hear me out. This is actually a good one.”

***

Bellamy tightened his jacket around his shoulders as he nervously stepped into the aisle. He kept his gaze focused on the small flecks of dust catching in the light because he knew that if he looked anywhere else, his emotions would get the best of him. The wood-paneled walls and distinctly old scent struck something so deep in his chest he didn’t know how to identify it. He hated to admit it, but Octavia had been right. It had been years since he had set foot in this church, but somehow it felt like no time had passed at all. There was no place he would rather marry the love of his life.

He neared the front of the church, and against his better judgment, stole a glance toward Octavia. She sat at the piano, back straight, long, dark hair ripping as her fingers tingled against the keys. Lincoln sat beside her, gently guiding her with the music, ensuring that the notes flowed smoothly. Bellamy felt a painful squeeze of grief at the sight of it. From this angle, she looked exactly like their mom. It was like a peek back in time, in this dusty old church, on a warm spring Sunday with the windows open. He almost felt like his mom was here, watching over them in her favorite place. Looking out at the crowd, as the heavy doors swung open to reveal Madi and Jordan in their stiff new formal wear…he knew she would’ve been proud.

He had never been a particularly religious person, but something about the idea of his mom looking down on him, happy for the first time in a long time, made a little bit of the bitterness over his childhood fade away. Even if things hadn’t always been perfect, he would do it all again if he got to have this moment, got to have a lifetime of moments with Clarke…with their family.

The soft melody of the piano began to sound as Jordan held Madi’s hand, bent forward slightly to make sure she was walking in a straight line. Their steps were practiced, following the pattern that Emori had taught them.

1…2…step…1, 2…step…

They made it to the end of the aisle without incident and Bellamy couldn’t resist the urge to bend down and open his arms for them. He held them tightly, squeezing them as close as possible. They were supposed to take their place in the front pew, but it didn’t feel right to do this without them standing beside him, they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. He straightened but kept Madi propped up on his hip and left the other hand wrapped firmly on Jordan’s shoulder.

The heavy doors opened again, and Charlotte stepped out, face split into an uncharacteristically broad grin and pink dress billowing behind her. Happiness definitely suited her, she looked young and radiant as she floated down the aisle. On the final few notes of the song, she squeezed Bellamy’s shoulder, taking her place behind where Clarke would stand.

Bellamy felt his heart rate pick up as the music switched, a slow acoustic rendition of a Mumford and Son’s song.

 _“Well I came home, like a stone and I fell heavyyy into your arms, these days of dust…which we’ve known. Will blow away with this new sun,”_ Octavia and Lincoln sang together, voices melding together and ringing against the glass windows of the church. They had slowed the song down, dragging each syllable as the heavy church doors swung open.

Clarke hadn’t wanted to wear an elaborate dress, hadn’t wanted to deal with the logistics of wide skirts and tulle. She had settled on a simple white lace dress, it was light and flowy, the sun catching in the thin patterns of the skirt. In her hands was a small bouquet of daisies, picked from their backyard. This entrance wasn’t anything like she had imagined her wedding being, but as she stared down the aisle at Bellamy holding Jordan and Madi, she knew this was better than anything else she could’ve ever hoped for.

He smiled at her warmly, eyes welling with tears as she began to slowly walk forward. She could feel every set of eyes in the room on her, but the only thing she could see was him.

_“And I will wait, I will wait for you…I will wait I will wait for you.”_

Bellamy felt like his lungs couldn’t take in enough air, the sight of Clarke in a white dress, walking toward him, was enough to take his breath away. He had never let himself truly believe this could happen, that somehow everything would fall into place. He studied her face, so beautiful, almost painfully so. She was everything, the mother of his children, his best friend, the love of his life. All their shared experiences sat between them at this moment, every smile and heartbreak that had brought them to this moment. The emotion of it was too strong and he felt tears spilling out of his eyes as he watched her. But despite the tears, he couldn’t look away. Their eyes were locked together, this was their moment, right now, nothing else mattered.

_“Now I’ll be bold, as well as strong and use my headddd alongside my heart. So take my flesh and fix my eyes, a tethered mind, free from the lies.”_

As she neared the front, Madi wiggled out of Bellamy’s grasp and ran toward her, chubby arms outstretched. Her giggles melded perfectly with the quiet sweetness of the music and Clarke laughed along with her, bending down to scoop her up, holding her close as she walked the rest of the way down. From his place by the altar, Bellamy hauled Jordan up. The sight of it made something in Clarke’s chest feel impossibly full. She was glad they hadn’t waited for the perfect moment because a giant wedding at the zoo would never have compared to this tiny, dusty church with her best friends, her kids and the love of her life.

_“And I will wait, I will wait for youuuuu…I will wait I will wait for you.”_

Bellamy reached out to take Clarke’s hand as she took her place across from him. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered over Jordan’s head, squeezing her fingers tightly.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered back, adjusting Madi on her hip as the final notes of the song rang out.

The pastor smiled at both of them, ruffling Jordan’s hair as he opened up his small bible. “Welcome all, to the wedding of Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin. As I understand this has been a long time coming and I am honored to stand here today. We all know, there is nothing more precious that creating a family. These two have already done the hard part, we’re just here to make it official,” he began, scanning the crowd as he spoke.

They had chosen not to recite their own vows, there was too much to say, more than could ever fit in a few minutes of wedding vows. Instead, they had exchanged notes in the early hours of the morning, tucked in neat envelopes, a private exchange of love, something just for them. The sun hadn’t quite come up yet and they had sat on the front porch in their pajamas, side by side and read their vows to each other. It was rare that they got private moments and it had felt like something that should stay between them, words whispered to each other as the sun filled the sky. It was something they could keep forever, the moment itself more meaningful than any white dress or tuxedo could ever be.

“Although the couple has chosen to recite traditional vows, the maid of honor, Charlotte has asked to say a few words. It is with great pleasure that I pass the mic over to her,” he said, closing his book and stepping aside to allow Charlotte to stand at the front.

Clarke’s head shot up, eyes wide in surprise as she looked at Bellamy. He looked just as confused as she did. They hadn’t planned this. Charlotte hadn’t mentioned anything about it before right now. To say she was shocked was an understatement. With a confident smile, Charlotte pulled a small stack of notecards from the pocket of her dress. She winked at them both as she began to read, clearly enjoying the fact that she had caught them off guard.

“Growing up, I didn’t get to see a lot of people in love. I’m fifteen, I’ve never been in love myself, my birth parents were never married. To me, falling in love was something made up by people at Netflix to sell movies. It didn’t seem real. But then I met Bellamy and Clarke. They are two of the dorkiest, over the top people I have ever met, but they’re also two of the best. They have this way about them, where you can almost instantly tell they have something special. It’s the most obvious when they’re trying to be funny. Because they’re both not funny…like at all, but they’re somehow always laughing together. It’s like they’re in on this secret joke that nobody else can even begin to understand. When I first moved in and Clarke told me they weren’t already dating, I thought she was insane, how could two people who so clearly loved each other not be together?” Charlotte paused, sniffing softly and looking up to give the crowd a wry grin before shuffling her notecards and continuing, voice tinged with the scratch of emotion.

“But the more time I spent with them, the more I realized, love like that takes time, work, it comes from a lot of shared pain and experiences. This kind of love is a choice—” Charlotte’s voice cracked at the end of her sentence, tears threatening to fall as her small stack of notecards shook in her hand.

“How special are two people who not only choose to love each other every day—first as best friends, then as a couple, but also chose to love three kids they had never met? Who loved each other so much they wanted to have a family together even if they weren’t dating…I think most people would call you crazy? But I owe a lot to your craziness. I don’t know where I would be without the two of you. There’s nobody more deserving of the kind of happiness here today, the kind of love that you share. Thank you for choosing each other every day for almost as long as I’ve been alive, and for choosing to be our mom and dad—especially because I know that I haven’t always made things easy for you. I love you and I am so happy to watch you two weirdos marry each other. So…here’s to you _mom and dad,_ may your love last long and your jokes remain painfully unfunny,” she said with a broad smile tucking her speech back into her pocket while Bellamy, Clarke and the rest of the audience wiped away tears.

“Mom and dad…” Clarke whispered, holding out an arm to hug Charlotte as tears continued to run down her cheeks. It felt like she had waited a lifetime to hear those words, it was an honor that Charlotte felt comfortable enough to say them. The speech had been a beautiful surprise, a perfect way to sum up the journey that had led to this moment.

They sandwiched Charlotte between them, wrapping her in an extremely tight hug with Madi and Jordan still in their arms.

“Thank you for choosing us…we love you so much,” Bellamy said, kissing the top of Charlotte’s head as they all hugged.

“You made us parents, we wouldn’t be here without you,” Clarke agreed, resting her cheek on Charlotte’s hair while she looked up at Bellamy. There had been so many times when this had felt impossible, when they had wanted to give up, when this had felt like the wrong choice. But at the end of the broken road was a family, they had all struggled, felt lost and alone, but this was a turning point. They were each other’s anchors, they would never have to face the world alone again.

Bellamy thought back to the night when he had suggested all this, when he had made one last shot in the dark. It had been his Hail Mary pass, a push toward admitting what he had been holding in for half his life. He hadn’t really expected her to agree, never expected to make it past the adoption interview, let alone get to the point they were at now. There were so many ways this could’ve gone wrong, but somehow, by the grace of God, they had fallen upon the one outcome where they got it right. As he repeated the standard vows, he sent a silent thank you out into the universe. He still wasn’t really sure how fate worked, but whatever it was, he was grateful for it.

The pastor put his arms around Charlotte and Jordan after Clarke had finished her vows, looking at them proudly. He didn’t really know them, but the way he stood with their kids as he prepared to close the ceremony, it was clear he understood.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” he said, just as the music started playing once again.

_“And I will wait, I will wait for you. I will wait, I will wait for you.”_

Barely waiting for the words to leave the pastor’s mouth, Clarke surged forward, throwing her arms around Bellamy’s neck as she kissed him. He almost topped backward from the force of it, hovering his hands over her waist as he attempted to keep his balance. But within seconds, he melted into the kiss, lining up every inch of their bodies as he poured every ounce of his being into the point where their lips met. They kissed with their whole bodies, probably a touch too intimate for a church, but the overwhelming joy of the moment was too much to contain.

After fourteen years, two failed confessions, three kids, a business and a house, they were finally married. It had been a long road, but soulmates weren’t forged from an easy life, Charlotte was right, they were built in shared pain, in grief, in loss, in all the ugly moments. Soulmates were the people who kept you from reaching your apocalypse, who always gave you something to live for. Love was a choice, and as long as they could, they would live every day choosing each other, choosing their family.

***

Bellamy pulled the car to a stop in front of their new house, shrugging off his heavy suit jacket before he lifted Madi out of her car seat. Clarke still had her wedding dress on, the narrow skirt catching in the wind as she leaned against the old porch. She smiled broadly while Jordan and Charlotte stared up at the house, clearly confused about where they were and why.

“You guys have been through a lot and it’s been a hard year. But in all of this, we have each other. We’ve been thinking about a fresh start for a while now…and this house feels like a good place for us to be a family. Nothing’s final and if you guys don’t like it, we can—” Bellamy began, easing the door open slowly as he spoke.

“This is our house?” Jordan asked carefully, eyes flicking from Bellamy to the house and then toward Clarke.

“Yeah bud, this is our house,” Bellamy said, dropping the rest of the speech he had planned and bending to ruffle Jordan’s mop of hair. “Our forever house for our forever family.”

“I call the biggest room,” Charlotte exclaimed, ducking under Bellamy’s arm and running into the house.

“Hey! Wait for me,” Jordan yelled, grabbing Madi’s hand immediately following her, loose tie waving behind him.

Bellamy chuckled putting his arm around Clarke as Jordan and Charlotte’s bickering echoed through the house. Sometimes it felt like they had all been through so much, they would never get to be a normal family, but this was proof that at the end of the day their kids were just kids…and they were just parents. This house was surrounded by people who knew nothing about them, who they wouldn’t have to explain their story to. He had three kids and a beautiful wife and that was all that mattered.

“Should we follow them?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s temple.

“Not yet…” she replied, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips before sliding out from under his arm. From her wide tote, she extracted a wooden sign, moving to hang it up by the door.

In simple block letters, it read, “The Griffin-Blakes”

Silently, Bellamy held his hands up, framing Clarke and the sign between his fingers and pressing the imaginary camera button.

Click.

The first picture, of the first day, of the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words except thank you and I love you all. 
> 
> I'll have a longer, sappier note at the epilogue but for now I'm just emotional af. 
> 
> It's been a beautiful ride babes, here's to a final peek into their future.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of you who have laughed and cried with me over this fic, I truly could not have written this without you. 
> 
> Inspired by: Love like this by: Ben Rector

Clarke marked the date in the corner of her sketchbook, sure, precise loops indicating when she had finished her design. The numbers sat starkly on the page, an inky black contrast against the clean white page. She contemplated the way they marked this exact moment in time so succinctly.

It was strange in a way.

Some days were etched into your skin, days that had held significance from the time you were a flicker in the galaxy, like your birthday or your parents’ anniversary. Other dates snuck up on you, they passed you by, year by year. Days that seem insignificant at the time but in the grand scheme of your life end up being monumental.

When you’re seven years old, April 26th is just another Tuesday, another day to play in the front yard and eat chocolate chip cookies. You wake up in the morning and live your life because it’s just another day. But when you’re thirty-two, April 26th becomes your wedding anniversary, the day that you got to marry the love of your life. Suddenly, in the span of 24 hours, another day in the year turns into one of the most important days of your life.

The date written at the top of this paper was another one of those days. It might not have been a day she had ever considered as important, or a milestone she ever expected to reach at all but today was undoubtedly one of the most important days of her life. From here on out, this would no longer just be another day on her calendar.

It was adoption day.

There had been plenty of times that they had never thought they would get here, times when this whole thing felt impossibly fragile. She hadn’t grown these kids inside of her body, but all the same, in the span of nine months, they had carved a place in her heart.

For all intents and purposes, today was a formality. They had been a family for a long time and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change that. But something was comforting about knowing that it was official, that after today Jordan, Madi and Charlotte would be a part of their family forever.

It was like a collective birthday, their family birthday…and Clarke loved birthdays.

Her first instinct had been to turn today into an enormous ordeal, to throw a huge party, order a cake, dress everyone up in fancy outfits. But if she had learned one thing this year, it was that grand gestures were kind of bullshit.

She closed the sketchbook gently, gaze fixed on the date until the cover of the sketchbook completely obscured it. The mumbles of breakfast leaked into the living room and she followed the sound of voices, rounding the corner to find Bellamy serving pancakes. It was kind of the picture-perfect domestic scene, the kids sitting around the table eating breakfast while her husband artfully dished food onto plates.

“Dad, can I tell you a secret?” Jordan asked, looking up at Bellamy with wide brown eyes while he poured an inordinate amount of syrup on his breakfast.

“You can tell me anything bud,” Bellamy assured, sitting gently on the chair beside him.

“Do you remember my birthday?”

Bellamy tried to hold in his chuckle as he nodded seriously, “Of course, it was a very important day.”

“Well remember how I had a Harry Potter cake? And it had eight candles on it just for me?”

“Yeah, I remember that! That cake was really cool.”

“Do you think birthday candles are magic?” Jordan asked carefully, rolling a blueberry across his plate as he spoke.

“Yeah, I do bud. Birthday candles are extra special magic.”

“Do you think the birthday magic remembers all your wishes?” he continued, pausing to take a bite.

“Magic remembers all of your wishes because your wishes live right here,” he said, pressing a finger to Jordan’s chest, right over his heart.

“I didn’t have a birthday last year, but when I turned six years old Charlotte got me a cupcake and it had one candle on it. And when I blew my candle, I made a wish …” he said carefully, “and I know you’re not ‘upposed to tell people your wish—but I think the magic really worked.”

“Do you want to tell me what you wished for? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Bellamy said carefully, reaching out to take Jordan’s hand. The air in the kitchen felt suddenly very still, filled only with the sounds of Charlotte’s fork scraping against her plate and Madi humming to herself.

“I wished for my own room and for a mom and dad and for all of us to be together,” he said matter-of-factly, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. “Also, for a bike.”

Bellamy felt a surge of emotion as Jordan’s words set in. The image of him sitting with a single cupcake and a candle, making a wish beyond his years on his birthday hit painfully close to home. Bellamy could think of several childhood birthdays where he had done essentially the same, crowded around the kitchen table with Octavia and his mom. He too had made wishes for things that had felt painfully out of reach, wished for his mom to get a job, for them to be able to get McDonald's for dinner, to have his own room with his own bed.

Jordan had always felt like a kindred spirit to him, he had never been able to place exactly why but from the minute they had met on that basketball court, it was like they had met before. He was so grateful that Jordan’s magic wishes had come true, that he and Clarke had played a role in making that happen. Despite all their fears and reservations, they had given their kids better than they had had.

“All my wishes came true, even the bike,” Jordan continued, smiling at Bellamy like he had just uncovered the world’s biggest secret. “I think if you blow extra hard then your wishes come true.”

Bellamy couldn’t help the well of tears, being a dad had really turned him into a sap. He ran his hand gently over Jordan’s hair, trailing it all the way down his back. He didn’t want to startle him, Jordan seemed innocently unaware of the impact his words had had on Bellamy.

“I hope all your birthday wishes come true bud, forever and ever,” he said after a long pause, pressing a soft kiss to Jordan’s forehead. He hoped Jordan believed in magic forever, was eternally grateful that the weight of reality hadn’t dulled his hope.

Clarke came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. The curtain of her hair shielded his face, and he took the opportunity to wipe a tear away, resting his temple against Clarke’s cheek while they watched the kids eat breakfast. Charlotte had remained silent through all this, but there was a soft, also sad smile on her face as her eyes met theirs.

It was easy to forget that she was the one who had scrounged up the money to buy that cupcake, to make sure that Jordan still believed in birthday magic. Her face had softened in the past year, her shoulders had come unwound and color was slowly weaving itself into her wardrobe, but in moments like this, a small glimmer of the adult she had been for so much of her life came through.

They had all really come into one another’s lives at the right time, had saved each other in different ways. Jordan still believed in magic, Charlotte had gotten a piece of her childhood back and Bellamy and Clarke had found each other, finally found their family.

In a way, making a family was like building a house. It was a slow process, a series of small steps that cumulate into something beautiful, something truly remarkable. True to form, their family had been less of a build and more of a flip. They had picked up somewhere in the middle with something kind of broken, but full of potential. There was magic in a flip. It required a lot of individual pieces of work together in exactly the right way. There were twists and turns and bumps along the road but at the end of it, you got a beautiful place to live.

That was the best part about houses, the structure itself wasn’t the finished product, not really anyway. The finished product was the life that grows inside of it, the piano tucked in the corner or the photos hung above the stairs, the Christmas tree in the living room, blueberry pancakes on an exciting morning.

“Happy Birthday to the Griffin-Blakes,” Clarke whispered tightening her arms around Bellamy’s shoulders. 

“I would say to blow out the candles, but I think we already got our wish,” he replied, covering her arms with his own as he looked around the table at the family they had built.   
  
This process hasn’t been instant, but that was part of what made it so meaningful. They had chosen each other from the start and they would get to choose each other every day from here on out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't expect to get so emotionally attached to these characterizations or this fic, this is probably my favorite piece I've written since I've gotten back into writing. I've grown so much as a writer through this and have so much appreciation for all of you who have taken the time to read this little piece of my heart. 
> 
> The feedback I have gotten on this story is by far the kindest, most thoughtful and genuine feedback I have ever received, thank you all so much. I really feel like I've gotten to know you all and consider you to be my friends, you have encouraged me so much as a writer, found insight in places that I didn't even intend and taken so much of your time to write me loving, long, wonderful comments that have made me tear up on more than one occasion. 
> 
> The greatest compliment I can think of is that this story has touched some of you in some way, that these characters and their hardships have found meaning in the real world. 
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I have so much love for all of you. It's been a ride and it's really bittersweet to see it end. I hope to see some of you again whether it be on another fic or on Tumblr. I'll be continuing this series fairly soon hopefully but until then, may God's blessings keep you always and may your wishes all come true :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in moodboards, updates, polls, playlists and just being buds, you can find me on Tumblr @Nakey-cats-take-bathsss
> 
> I love getting to know y'all :)


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